Teaching STYLE to 6th Graders
by BroflovskiFan
Summary: Courtesy of Indiana Beach Bum AND BroflovskiFan. In a class where there aren't too many expectations, students are about to get far more than they bargained for. Bet your school never taught you this. R&R.
1. First Day Classes

Title: Teaching Style to 6th Graders

Synopsis: Courtesy of Indiana Beach Bum AND BroflovskiFan. In a class where  
there aren't too many expectations, students are about to get far more than they bargained for. Bet your school never taught you this. R&R.

**Authors's note** (because there's two of us!):

First off, this is an rp by Indiana Beach Bum and BroflovskiFan. Indiana Beach Bum is currently working on three of them, including this one, and her own fanfic! How crazy is that? Meanwhile this is my first rp. Killer times.

So one day, me and miss IBB were chatting about how she recently got a teaching job, and that it would totally be hilarious to try to teach her class 'style.' Oh, how the parents would react! So then we both decided that the idea was hilarious, and we should totally rp it! This is a funny funny story, according to both of us. This is first chapter, as in there will be more, as in it's not a one-shot! It's light-hearted and a fun thing, so we both hope you guys enjoy! Oh and leave a review! It motivates us.

**Chapter One – First Day of Classes - ?POV **

I can't believe I'm about to go through another year of this shit. My watch says 8:05. Those little shits should be coming in at any time now. I'm probably going to get in trouble for not doing my duty, but I couldn't pass up the free doughnuts in the teacher's lounge. You'd think that after all these years, I would be able to look back and laugh at my poverty-stricken days of childhood. Well, I'm laughing, but it's more at the fact that nothing has changed. Nothing. I'm stuck in this low class job making shit for money and dealing with kids that still pick their fucking noses.

And now the infamous First Day of School has rolled around again, and I'm counting the days to Christmas break. Seventy-Nine. Not counting weekends. Those are my vacation. At least, until I have a couple of rug rats of my own. Ugh, the bell just rang. Here we go.

Smile at them now as though you give a damn about their lives. First kid walking in looks like he's about to shit his pants. The second one looks like he thinks he's all that. I award him the name 'majesty' and make a mental note to take him down a few pegs through humiliation by the end of term.

"Hey Mr. McCormick!"

I wave half-heartedly to the buck-toothed girl that just said my name. She's smiling at me, trying to be all seductive. How seductive can a seventh grader be anyway? I mean, I know I was...but still...

She looks a little familiar. Someone's kid, maybe? I rack my brain, but come up zilch. Ah, screw it anyways. She's probably just the kid of some chick I got it on with a few years back.

"Mr. K, yo!" this kid that mildly resembles my old friend Stan gives me a heads up, and I smile. He's cute.

Just like Stan.

I bet Stan has a better job than I do right now. Last time I checked he was about to open his business, Marsh enterprises. Don't ask me what his business does, like hell if I know.

Those guys don't really associate with me anymore. They've got all these possessions...and stuff. Like a car. Pssh. Stupid Kenny has to ride the stupid city bus to get to work.

I'm practically royalty.

"Hi teacher, remember me?" A shy girl walks up to me, blonde curls bobbing around her head.

'Nope,' I think to myself. "Refresh my memory," I say to her.

She giggles, then looks down at her feet and shuffles them. "You know" she says, as if expecting me to suddenly jump up and shout 'Of course! It's you!'

I raise my eyebrows and open my mouth to speak, but this fatass plows right into her, practically knocking her over.

"Get outta my way!" he huffs and he places his book on the desk in front of me. "Hey teach," he says, learning over as much as his fat little belly allows him to. "I'm gonna level with ya. I don't like you and you won't like me. Give me a C and I'll be out of your hair for the rest of the year."

I smirk. He negotiates like Cartman. "Sit down, kid," I reply.

"Ey! I'll sit down when I feel like it!" Fatty responds, narrowing his eyes at me. I roll my eyes. Well, won't this just be fun.

"Listen here kid. That's not how this works. I tell you to sit down, that is if you can fit into a seat, and you sit. Or else I kick you out of this class and flunk your sorry ass all the way back to fifth grade." I really wasn't concerned about getting into trouble for swearing at kids. Like anyone in this shithole school would give a damn.

He grunts and I swear, WADDLES back to an open seat, right next to that curly blonde that I couldn't remember her name. Ha, he probably has a crush on her. I notice that the halls are emptying, and the last few kids trickle into the room. I guess its best that I take my muddy shoes off of the desk and attempt to introduce myself. And to get to my first lesson.

I clap my hands together and begin the routine talk, determined to get through it as fast as possible. "Alright kids, listen up. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Mr. McKormick. My friends call me Kenny, but you're not my friends, so you call me Mr. M, teacher, or whatever the hell else makes you happy. I'm here to teach you sex-ed. Yes, that's right, SEX-ed. Laugh, you know you want to."

Sure enough, a few brats in the back snicker, causing me to give them the evil glare. I don't know why. I was THEM back in grade school. Oh God, I've turned into MY teachers. Shoot me now.

"Alright children, we're going to start the day with a few new ideas," I begin. "Does anybody want to tell me what "Style" is?" I decide it's best to dive right into it.

I receive nothing but a blank stare from everyone in the classroom. Until Majesty decides to step in. "It's what I have, and everyone wishes they could have!" He announced gleefully, standing on his chair.

"WRONG!" I yell at him. "Now sit the hell down Majesty." He sits down, embarrassed, while the nickname is whispered throughout the classroom.

A shy little kid sitting isolated from the rest of the class rubs his hands nervously, avoiding all eye-contact with me. I'm such a dick. "Hey kid!" I call, walking over to him. "Tell me what Style is. And don't give me a bullshit answer either."

The kid stared up at me with innocent blue eyes. "Gosh, sir, I don't know what the heck you are talking about."

I raise my arms triumphantly. "He doesn't know what Style is!" I announce to the class. I turn back to the kid. "THANK YOU, for your HONEST answer! What's your name?"

"M-my name's Simon," he mutters, cheeks glowing ever so slightly.

"Trevor! Excellent. Now Trevor, tell me, would you like to know what Style is?"

"I s-sure would, Mr. McCormick!" he says, over enthusiastically. I take an immediate liking to this kid already. He reminds me of someone, but, again, I have no idea. My memory's gone to shit ever since those damn lab experiments back in high school I was in to earn some cash.

I wonder how Stan and Kyle would react if they found out about this. My no-dying streak may take a turn for the worse, I reckon.

"Listen closely class, for what I am about to tell you will likely blow your premature little heads right off your premature little bodies," I say, illustrating an explosion with my arms to enhance my words.

"Trust me," I add. "Hurts like hell."

When I first thought of the concept of style, my head was too premature to handle it. I ended up being cleaned up by the janitor after school, only AFTER they realized that my exploded body WASN'T a cafeteria accident.

"Alright little dudes and ladies. Look at me. Who wants to tell me what the word 'gay' is?"

Fatass looks at me with disgust. "Rainbows."

"Not quite chubby, but you're getting there. The word gay has two meanings actually. The first one is the equivalent of happy. The second one is-" I point at this nerdy kid with huge glasses. He immediately jumps in. "To partake in a sexual relationship involving two or more males." The class immediately cracks up.

I smile inwardly. Little does that kid know I've just branded him gay for life just by pointing at him. But he seems pleased with his answer as he pushes his glasses up with his index finger and folds his arms in front of him.

I turn my attention back to Trevor in the corner. "You got something to add, kid?" I ask him, noticing his trembling lips and confused expression.

"Bu-but, how does that work, exactly?" Trevor says, clearly puzzled. "I mean - how do two guys - " he scrunches up his face as he tries to remember "-partake in a sexual relationship? You need a boy and girl for sex."

NOW I know who this kid reminds me of. Butters. So naive, yet good intentioned.

My thoughts are interrupted when Majesty decides to show off again. "IN THE BUTT, DUMBASS!" He roars across the room.

My ears cringe at Majesty's shrill yet-to-hit-puberty voice. I swivel to glare at him. "You're getting ahead of my lesson, boy," I mutter. Stupid kid CAN'T skip to mechanics yet, he'll ruin my first week of classes!

"Uh..." I acknowledge a little girl with braids.

"SANDY!" she almost screams, excited to have my attention.

"Right. What do YOU have to say about the word 'gay'?"

"MY DADDIES SAY THAT IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU'RE BOTH BOYS OR GIRLS, AS LONG AS YOU LOVE EACH OTHER!" She practically screams it at me, beaming the whole while. A few kids snicker.

"Uh, that's right… erm Darla " I say, a little taken aback by her boldness. "Gender doesn't really matter all that much." She smiles flirtatiously at me, then folds her hands neatly in her lap, waiting for me to continue.

I take a giant step away from her and focus my attention on the most hick-infested hillrat this school has ever seen. "What you think, Jim-Bob?" I venture, guessing one of the names, if not both, is probably right.

He smiles widely, revealing his missing teeth and horrible under bite. "My daddy says that it's not gay if you are blind-folded and the other guy calls you master."

"Jesus Christ!" I yelp, immediately seeking another kid.

"YOU!" I cry out, pointing at the girl with the curly blonde hair. "What do you know about gays?"

She ponders this for a moment. "I don't know very much about it, really, but I saw these people once holding signs that said 'god hates gays'. I didn't really believe it though. God loves everyone. That's what my mom told me."

I nod. "Your mom sounds like a smart lady. And open, too."

She gestures toward me with her index finger, telling me to come closer. As I lean in, she leans in toward me. "She's STILL waiting for your call, Mr. M," she tells me, and I choke on the air around me.

My brain scrambles for a rational answer. My wife! Of course. I quickly whisper back 'Tell your mommy I'm married.' The girl looks at me, forlorn.

"Oh. Because you would have made a great step-dad," she tells me, and I feel a pang of guilt hit me.

This is too awkward. These kids are so fucked up, they just haul them to school so that they can escape their shitty home lives. I gently pat her on the back, giving her a sort of closed-mouth smile, and continue talking. That's what you have to do when a student tells you you'd make a great step dad. Happens at least...twice a week.

"Okay, so we've got a lot of ideas on the word 'gay'," I press on. "But you still don't know how that relates to Style. All in due time. You see now class," I continue, pacing around the classroom. "People can be gay without even knowing it. Someone could live twenty years as a straight man, a womanizer even, yet fall completely in love with someone of the same sex."

"Bullshit." Fatty crosses his arms, smirking at me.

I narrow my eyes at the tub of lard. "Watch your mouth, tubby." He mouths the words "I hate you" and I return to the board. "Its true, ladies and gents. The condition...I named it Style. Accredited to the guys who give me the greatest example for this phenomenon.

"Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski were your average teenagers. They liked girls, tits, boobies and all, just as much as the next horny underdeveloped seventeen-year-old male. Their entire lives they had been best friends, never spending more than a few days apart from one another. And there, my children, was where it all started. Tell me, how many of you here have a best friend?"

All of the children reluctantly raise their hands, unsure of how I'm going to play with that ammo. Ha, they're right. I guarantee there is Style going on in THIS classroom. Call me crazy, Crazy Kenny, but I'm out to prove it, dammit.

"Trevor. You got a best friend?"

He looks up to me and gently shakes his head. Aw, shit. I better not pick on that kid anymore.

"Alright then. How about you, Darla?" I say, returning to Braids.

She giggles then shakes her head. "I'm Sandy," she told me.

"Okay then Braids, you got a best friend?" She pouts at me, but nods her head nonetheless.

"We've ALL got friends, McCormick, what's your point?" Majesty interrupts.

I grit my teeth. Pain in the ass. Delinquent. How can I get him out of this classroom? "My POINT is that everyone feels close to their best friend. Very close." I dive deeper. "Who here has a SUPER best friend?"

Boy Who Looks Like Stan throws up his hand, practically jumping out of his seat in the process too.

"You, what's your name?" I point at him.

"Stan."

My mouth gapes open. No. Fucking. Way.

"O...kay, Stan," I proceed. "You've got a super best friend. What do you guys like to do together?"

"We like to," he appears to be picking through his brain as he lists their interests, "burn stuff, play video games, throw rocks at cars, and have tea parties. I mean tea...fights."

"Yes. Tea FIGHTS. Of course," I say, amused. "You certainly are quite the man's man now aren't you?"

Young Stan eagerly bobs his head up and down. "I'm going to be a Snake Wrestler when I grow up!"

I cough. "Yes, well that's very nice. Tell me Stan, do you like girls?"

Young Stan ponders this. "Well, when I was a baby I thought they were stinky, but there's a girl who I brought a dandelion for once, and then she held my hand for the rest of the day. And she was pretty."

I can't resist. "Like a flower?"

Stupid Stan nods his head, unable to tear his smile off of me. I frown and find my way back to my lesson topic. "So Stanley here has a super best friend. A MALE super best friend, right?"

He nods, looking in the direction of the boy that I assume is his BFF.

His BFF is a skinny kid with light blonde hair. It's way too long and covers his eyes. It curls out a little at the end. Apparently it was the trend, but I never understood how vision impairment was fashionable.

"And what's your name?" I ask the other boy.

"What's it to you? You'll just call me something else," he informs me, eyes flickering underneath his way too long bangs. Oh hoh, so this kid has a bit of intelligence. "Just for the hell of it, tell me your name."

The boy bristles a little, but complies. "King Oedipus Del Lotta of the Land of Metamorphosis."

I can't help but laugh at the smirk that the sly little bastard has plastered on his face. I like him immediately. "Your name is King for short. I can see why Stan'd like you so much." This immediately earns a blush from King. I think I am stepping on unearthed feelings right there. Maybe it's a Stan thing...if that's your name, you've GOTTA have Style. 'Cept it wouldn't be Style as much as Sting.

"So, King," I entertain, "what would you say makes Stan your super BEST friend?" The kid fidgets nervously in his seat, looking over to Stan for approval before speaking.

"He knows how to have a good time," he answers, and I silently do a dance. This is music to my ears.

Stan interrupts excitedly. "This one time, we found a map, and we went treasure hunting, and then we got lost in the forest and couldn't find each other, and then we used our walkie-talkies to find each other, and then we couldn't get out, so then we slept together under a bush, and then when it was morning, we found our way back." Stan pauses to take a breath from that long-winded sentence.

"You slept together, did ya?" I muse, knowing full well I'm treading into potential argumentative territory. Something tells me Majesty is gonna call me out on it.

King eyes me strangely. "Well not like homos or nothin." Ha, that kid is clever. Sees where I'm going before I'm even there.

"Oh quit it already!" Majesty, as if on cue, announces. "We already know you're totally gay for Stan, so stop denying it!"

King looks shocked for a moment, but then a smirk quickly covers his face.

"Last time I checked I wasn't the one found with a pair of his underwear in my backpack," he says smugly.

Majesty's face goes whiter than mine when I've been severed in two.

"ITHOUGHTITWASMYSHIRT!" he screams, desperate to cover up any suspicion. Only it's raised more.

"Majesty, what in God's name are you talking about?" I ask.

"I...I...it was gym...I thought..." he stutters, and I can't help but stifle my laughter. Little Stan looks cool as a cucumber and not at all embarrassed.

"You thought what?" I say, determined to be a complete asshole and force the story out of him.

"II just thought… see, there was this thing … and … and …I was changing. I swear I just thought it was my shirt!" Majesty spits out, turning redder than a tomato.

"Those are some pretty small shirts you wear there, 'Majesty'," King retorts, clearly enjoying the boy's new nickname.

"I'M A SMALL BOY!" he finally admits, and I can tell that Majesty, though he's only a little kid, is going to have little man's syndrome his whole life. Hence the holier-than-thou attitude.

"Not THAT small," King mumbles, and he twists to face me once again, with his hands folded in front in true victory fashion. "Continue, Mr. M."

I smile at my favorite kid, and do as he tells me. "This actually illustrates my point perfectly. There is Style in all of us. As a man I knew once said, everyone's a little bit gay, whether we're 13 or 31, boy or girl, etcetera etcetera."

"Not me!" Young Stan protests, and Braids murmurs her agreement. Oh, Young Stan. How daft you are.

I instead choose to pick on Braids. "So Braids, who's your best friend?" I am going to get my point across to these kids even if I have to hammer it into their skulls. Literally.

What? It's been done to me.

"Her name is Brenda, and we have lived side by side for 3.5 years," she announces proudly. "She is my bestest friend in the whole wide world and I would do anything for her."

I decide to test her on that claim. "Anything, huh? Would you eat a bug for her?"

She frowns. "Well, Brenda wouldn't want me to eat a b-"

"Would you set yourself on fire?"

"Well..."

"Would you jump into a shark infested pool to save her life?"

"That wouldn't solve anything. I would die too."

"Well, you just said you'd do anything for her. Don't say something you don't mean."

Braids huffs at me.

I decide to approach from another angle. "Do you guys sleep over at each other's houses often?"

Her eyes light up. "Oh yeah! We bake popcorn, braid each other's hair, talk about boys, and watch romantic movies!" Ah, she pretty much conforms to every female stereotype. How typical.

"Do you ever find yourself wondering what it would be like if she was a boy?" I ask, not sure where this is heading.

Braids frowns at me. "If she was a boy then we wouldn't be friends. Because boys are smelly. If she was a boy, I'd have to be a boy too. And then we could both be smelly together. But I don't want to be a boy. Boys suck. I want to be a girl. And so does she."

I decide to pick that apart. "You're both happy girls? So you'd only ever want her to be a girl?"

"I don't want her to be a boy," she repeats, as if there are MORE options than being a boy or a girl.

"So you said you don't like boys. You like girls?" I venture. Somewhere, an angry parent's head is exploding, I just know it. What I'm gonna teach their kids...ha!

"I like girls a whole lot," she tells me.

"Gotcha!" King announces from behind me, surprising me. He is pointing triumphantly at Braids, and Stan is looking at him with a confused expression.

"What is gotcha?" Stupid Stan inquires. "So what if she likes girls? I think I like boys better than girls, so what's the difference? You can't throw rocks at things with girls."

King looks at him dumbly. "She just said she prefers girls." Stan looks confused still, but Braids looks furious.

"SHE JUST SAID SHE PREFERS GIRLS!" King says again with more force. "That means that Mr. M will talk about how girls want only girls and guys want only guys and this'll connect perfectly with whatever the hell he's trying to teach us," he says with little emotion. Shit, that kid is smart.

"I'M NOT A LESBIAN!" Braids screams at both King and me. King looks alarmed, and I hold my hands up in defense.

"Woah! Calm down there! No one's calling you a lesbian! All I'm trying to get at is that everyone is a little bit into the same sex, especially if they hold a special bond that is solely between them and no one else. Hence the super best friends idea, hence how style came about."

Clueless Stan looks like he's just clueing in. "Wait a minute, are you telling me that King … King and me…" he looks as though he's trying very hard to comprehend something way past his current mental state.

"WHAT I'M SAYING is that anyone can have a bond. And a connection is a connection, male or female. It is possible--and I will be illustrating how--this connection turns into more than just friendship. That will be the basis for the next few days," I tell them, and peer down at my watch. Only four more minutes left in this period. Thank God, these kids are driving me crazy. I am actually kinda starting to enjoy them. THAT drives me even more crazy.

"For homework tonight, I want you all to write a page about someone who you feel you have a special connection with, and I want you to try to explain that connection. I'll even go easy on you - it can be with anyone you know, male or female, family member, SUPER BEST FRIEND…" I wink at the class, but more specifically in the direction of King and Stan. "You can spend the last few minutes of class gathering your ideas."

I close my mouth, half expecting them to jump out of their seats to talk to their friends. That's what I would have done. Shit, nobody actually takes free-time in class to do what they are SUPPOSED to do. But, much to my surprise, they all rearrange their desks and seats to sit next to who I can only assume to be their friends, and I hear only homework discussion fill the air.

These kids are mutants.

I immediately notice majesty and tubby sitting together. Figures. Braids and who I can only assume to be Brenda. And then Stan and King, that's a given. I notice King saying something to Stan, and then he gets up from his chair and heads in my direction. He looks around nervously, then tugs on my sleeve to get my attention, and looks up at me. His hair flips back, and I notice a pair of startling crystal blue eyes. He stands on his toes, and I can barely hear him whisper.

"Don't tell him."

My eyes widen in surprise, and all I can whisper back is a shocked 'what?'

"Don't tell him," King repeats, slightly louder. He glances back at Stan. "I don't want him to know. Ever."

My eyes bug out of my skull. I can feel the empowerment that King has just given me, causing me to want to jump out of the window and run screaming down the street in satisfaction. Hell, HE knows that this has made my day. He's smart as hell, he probably knows I'm going to use this to fuel my discussion without actually using his name. I bend down and pat him on the shoulder. "I never said anything," I assure him, giving him a smile of approval.

A whisper of a smile traces across his features, and then he turns around, hair falling back to his eyes. I wonder if there is more to his hairstyle that it being trendy. I mean, the fact that it completely obliterates his eyes is a little too suspicious. King walks back to his seat, and I hear him mention something about clarifying the assignment to Stan.

The bell rings, and I've barely had enough time to regulate my breathing before the kids file out, clumps at a time. Stan and King, I notice, have not even made a move to get up. Matter of fact, their heads are together, posed deep in thought. God, I swear, Style happens in and around me, and I've got some kind of gay-dar that knows how to pick 'em. And I'm not even gay!

"Heyyyy baby," I hear a seductive voice come from the doorway. I look in towards the opening and notice my very sexy wife standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. She has got such a great body, I swear to god she is the thing that keeps me straight in a world of homosexuality.

"Hey sexy," I reply, smiling devilishly. "How was your first day with the brats?"

"Uh...we're still here!" King sneers, but quickly becomes absorbed in something Stan has written down. I laugh. I seriously love that kid.

"Ohmygod, Kenny, it was like sooo different today. It was like, the first day of school or something!" she tells me. Lord knows she's got a great rack, but that's about it. I think he felt guilty for not giving her more of a brain and decided to reward ME with her ahem assets.

"Sooooo are we going now?" Porschea huffs, impatient. I look down at the boys still deep in conversation.

I feel a pang of guilt as I break them up. "Sorry guys, but I have to lock up the room now, you'll have to go somewhere else."

King shrugs at me. "S'okay. We can go to our locker," he informs Stan.

Porschea is oblivious to the boys, but that's no big surprise. She's oblivious to anything that doesn't have a neon sign flashing "IMPORTANT". And me. She's always aware of me. Somehow I was deemed the lucky one in this situation. I stare at her chest, wondering just how many sixth grade boys consider her a TILF (Teacher I'd Like To Fuck). I nod to the boys as they breeze past me, I swear, about to hold hands.

My wife interrupts my thoughts. "Ohmygod, you know, those boys are soooo cute! I wonder what our kids will look like? Oh! And what do you want to do? Like, isn't it so funny that we both have the same period off together? I mean, what are the chances?"

"We requested it," I reminded her, amused.

"That was SUCH a great idea, Kenny. Now we can, like, totally hang out and chill and stuff. You want to have sex in the janitor's closet?" she asks me, and her voice decibel is loud enough that King turns around giving me an expression I can't quite decode. But I sure as hell don't take the time to try, because I'm grabbing Porshea's hand and guiding her to the nearest closet I know of.

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End chapter one? What do you guys think? LET US KNOW BY LEAVING A REVIEW!


	2. What boys are REALLY saying

Chapter 2 – What boys are really saying

A/N: First of all, we'd both like to thank all of you for the fantastic reviews! We never thought we'd get so many on a first chapter like that! You guys rock our worlds! We're sorry for the long delay, but IBB went on vacation, and then I did too. And then she moved, so we didn't really get much of a chance. But it's okay now, because chapter two is up, and chapter three shouldn't take so long this time! So thank you all for your patience, we can't wait to see what you thought of this chapter too!

Another note. This chapter isn't as funny, but we both awwwed our pants off at each other. So we feel it's kinda cute. Tell us what you think ;).

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As I enter the school three days later, the stench of Febreeze nearly knocks me off my feet. Damn shitty school has been messing up my lesson plan by delaying classes for the past two days. Figures. Second day of class and already the school's going to hell. So much for the new renovations the school board was raving about.

By the time I walk into my room, my nose has either a) become used to the smell, or b) went on strike until further notice. I swear I saw some damage from the...uh...leak...near the back entryway, but I'm going to avoid that area. 'Sides, I have my first period to prepare for. Seeing they got some extra time on their assignment, there better be something worth my while to read.

The starting bell rings so shrilly that I bet that dogs five miles away are writhing on the ground. Once again, the usual shuffle of students flows into the room, only this time I recognize at least half of them. I'd probably know all their names if I took attendance for once, but fuck it. If kids don't want to come, it's their failing grade, not mine.

"Hey Mr. M," I hear that SAME girl who batted her eyes at me three days before say. Is she serious? Yep. She just licked her lips. Ah, this job is going to put me into therapy.

I instead divert my attention to some unnecessary yelling in the hallway, just outside the room. I recognize immediately one voice. It's that kid who calls himself King. Ah, all the kids are staring at me. Guess I should go see what's up out there.

As I walk outside, I see King and Majesty looking like they are ready to attack each other, and although I can't see King's eyes, I'll bet they're gleaming murder. Majesty appears to be calmer, but his eyes are deadly.

"Jesus can you just SHUT THE HELL UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!" King practically screams at Majesty, taking me off guard. He didn't seem like the screaming type. Then again, if this kid is one half of Sting, he's probably the Kyle half. And Kyle's temper is just as easily agitated. I watch him, slightly amused, as he practically foams at the mouth at the unsuspecting Majesty. Guess I should break 'em up.

"Alright boys, now that you've had your wake up call, get your butts into my room now," I say, pushing them by their shoulders.

The boys stalk off, trying to keep their distance while walking through the same door. It's really quite amusing. Once inside, Stan brightly calls King over, which immediately changes King's frown into a smile as he walks over to join his best friend. Majesty flops down beside chubby, who is busy staring at that same little blonde girl with curls.

"You've all gotten an extra few days to work on your paper, so I want you to pass them up to the front now," I explain, wanting to get right to it today. We've got a lot to cover. A whole person's personality.

Majesty sniffs the air and crinkles his nose in disapproval. "Dang, McCormick, you forget to clean up after you went swimming in your cess pool?"

The idiot totally has this shit eating grin plastered on his face. "Oh haha. You're funny. In fact, so funny, I think you deserve a round of applause!" I declare at the smug little ass. "Come on class, give him a round of applause!" Everyone starts clapping, and I'm not sure if Majesty is flattered or humiliated. "Do you do stand up kid? Come on up here, why don't you tell us a few more jokes?"

I see a shade of red spread across his face, and he slumps noticeably in his chair. Oh no, that kid isn't getting away with that shit. "Come on up!" I mock, stepping aside and "preparing" a stage for him.

I hear a snicker to the left of me. "Don't push him too far, he'll pee his pants," King informs me, which earns a very loud growl from the bastard who insulted me.

Majesty walks up and stands awkwardly in front of the class.

"Oh wait! You forgot your microphone!" I announce, handing Majesty a pink highlighter. He looks at me, bewildered.

"Go ahead," I prod. "Since you're so full of jokes, why don't you enlighten us on some more?"

"Well, I do have one," he begins.

"WE CAN'T HEAR YOU!" King eggs him on, looking over to Stan for approval. Little Stan is just beaming.

Majesty locks eyes with little Stan, then at King. His eyes narrow, and a devilish grin spreads across his face. "What do you call a boy who's in love with his best friend?"

King's eyes narrow as well, losing all traces of the smile he had before. This is going to get nasty.

"Well, this is enou-" I start to say, trying to avoid all the drama, but Majesty interrupts me.

"You call him Lu!" He bellows across the room. "Lululululululu! Hah! What do you say to THAT, 'king'?" He mocks the nickname.

Lu? What significance was that to anything, I wonder. King starts flushing bright red, and he looks more pissed off than anything else. Even Stan isn't smiling anymore.

"Sit DOWN, Majesty!" I scream, digging my fingers like claws into the side of his neck and shoulder. How DARE that brat cause a disturbance in my class. I don't even know what the hell just happened, but I will get these kids to snap out of it. I just can't stand to see everyone so...depressed.

I glare at Majesty, and glance over to King, who has propped his elbow up on the table, hiding his face from Stan.

"Okay, we're gonna start class now, if that's okay with YOU, Majesty," I growl.

"Actually-" Majesty starts to say while smirking, but I don't let him continue. Whatever he did just upset my favorite kid and his BFF, and I'm not taking any of that.

"Actually WHAT?" I roar at Majesty, and he shrinks back into his chair. I glare at him menacingly. "One more word and you're out of my class."

The class is silent. The mutant children must have swallowed their tongues, cause I can't hear even the sound of their breathing.

Cool. Now we can get on with it!

I travel to my chalkboard, which is cracked, and as I search for chalk, I discover we no longer have erasers--but there is a generous stack of paper towels on the ledge below.

'Damn this poor school to hell,' I curse in my mind as I finally uncover a tiny nub of a chalk beside the towels.

"And for your information class, it's not ME that smells like a cess pool, it's this - school," I say, omitting the curse from my sentence. "You've had the past two days off because there was a clog in the piping and all the toilets backed up. This whole damn place smells like a sewer. That, plus Febreeze."

I spin on my heels, scanning the classroom for any wise-ass comments. Nothing. These kids are broken. I can handle funny comments, as long as they aren't from that asshole that's going to make my prize Style candidates cry. "Are all papers up front?" I ask, resuming my teaching role.

There is a murmur of yes's throughout the room. "Alright, I'll take a look at those tonight and get them back to you soon." I state. "Let's continue on with the day's lessons. Can anyone give us a brief summary of what we talked about yesterday?"

Again, no response. Shit! I scared these students into submission. That's no good, I HATE just lecturing! Guess I'll have to resort to Plan B. Shit. I need Stan and King for it, they'd be best. But I can't do anything with them...yet. "Majesty, get your ass up here," I command. He springs forward and faces me at the front of the classroom. I figure this behavior will subside from him, and he'll be a dick again in no time.

"What did we learn yesterday Majesty?" I ask, eyes narrowing at him. "And you sure as hell better not make any crude remarks either."

Majesty ponders this for a moment, seeming a little worried that he might say the wrong thing. "We - we learned," he stutters. "We learned that - it's okay to be gay?" He flinches away from me the second he's said it.

I bite my lip and ponder this, finally nodding my head. "Sure is," I agree. "Specifically, what is the condition we are going to talk more about?"

"Falling for your best friend," he answers me immediately, staring directly at King. I see a hand raise, either in objection or agreement, from the back row.

"Yes?" I ask, mildly irritated.

"My parents told me this isn't appropriate material for 6th graders."

I turn around to recognize a student I didn't remember from yesterday. He had shaggy brown hair, and two different coloured eyes which I noticed immediately.

"Oh? And what makes you think this isn't appropriate?"

"I thought sex-ed was where you learned about sex and condoms and birth control and stuff," he shrugs at me while leaning back on his chair.

I bring my arm out, making a "STOP" gesture with my hand. Looking at the floor with my head tilted, I decide to dignify the homophobe with a response. "Patience, kid. We'll get to that."

I look up to the class. "Kids, Style is more important than sex, or condoms, or even birth control cause it is HAPPENING this very minute in this very room!"

All is silent again. I think I hear crickets.

Wouldn't surprise me if there really WERE crickets.

King raises his head slightly at that, and he flashes me a nervous glance. Pffft. I'd never single anyone out like that, especially after that verbal beating Majesty just gave him and Stan. Stan seems a little happier now having seen some form of movement from his best friend.

"Okay, so I'm going to start with Stan. Marsh! That is," I add quickly, not wanting anyone to confuse it with the current Stan here, as easy as that may be.

"Here, read this," I tell Majesty, shoving a stapled bunch of papers into this stomach. What? I plan!

Majesty eyes the document, his eyebrows rising further and further until they disappear into his hairline. He shakes his head. "No way," he tells me flatly.

I grit my teeth. "Half of your grade in this class is based on participation, MAJESTY. I strongly suggest you read the story."

"Nuh-uh. Find someone else, McCormick," he says, tossing the paper back at me and taking a seat.

I refrain from threatening the boy with his life, as hard as that is. "Majesty, get your scrawny little ASS back up here right now, or else you fail this whole course, and if you don't pass sex-ed, you don't pass sixth grade. Your decision."

Majesty looks at me in disbelief. "You're joking. You can't do that."

"I sure as hell can, Majesty," I assure him. "I'm the teacher, not you, so you do what the goddamn teacher says!"

"You don't have that kind of power," Majesty challenges me.

It is MY turn to narrow my eyes. I run my tongue across the front of my teeth and resist the urge to crack my knuckles. "Don't try me, kid." I walk up to him, looking down. "You disobey me again, I'll kick you out. Don't take sex-ed, you don't learn about females. You don't learn about females? You don't get dates. Period."

"Yeah, and then you'll be single and alone your whole life," I hear a quieter voice pipe up. I am surprised to find that young Stan has seemingly taken a lighthearted jab at Majesty. He seems a little uncertain about it, glancing over at his friend for approval. Or maybe that was the plan all along to try to cheer King up again. I hear King snort, and a small smile shows on Stan's face.

"He's right, you know," I continue. "You'll be a virgin forever. Do you want that?"

"What's a virgin?" I hear a girlish voice ask. Oh boy. I'll get back to that later.

Majesty scoffs. "I'll just take it with a better teacher down the road."

"You'll have a reputation of FAILING SEX ed," King chimes in. I'm happy to have him back. "You wouldn't want THAT, would you, Majesty?"

Young Stan couldn't have looked more thrilled. He eagerly puts his hand on the other's back, but King flinches away, making Stan pout. Ouch. Poor Stan. No one else seems to have noticed this though.

Majesty glares at King. "I wouldn't mind failing GAY sex ed," he declares, adding a 'lu' under his breath. King looks pained for a moment, but this time he manages to shrug it off.

"I wouldn't be talking if I were YOU, Melvin!" he retorts with contempt.

I watch the interaction between King and Majesty, and I observe Majesty's eyes widening and fists balling. I see little Stan pull on King's shirt, asking, "What's going on, Lu?" and it dawns on me.

And I bust out laughing. It's hard for me to control it. I hunch over, grabbing my stomach. Majesty's name! Hahahahahahahahaha. Whoa shit, I have a pain in my side. Ouch.

Majesty continues to glare.

"Me- oh, oh God, that's priceless," I say, hiccuping. King gives me an amused look, and I wipe the tears from my eyes. "A-alright then Me-Mel-Me," I start, but I can't say it without snickering, so I revert to his other name. "Alright then, Majesty, get… get your ass up here before I flunk it," I force out while the tears continue to freefall down my face. I wouldn't be surprised if I drowned in them. Wouldn't be the strangest death yet.

"Why don't you get Luke-ASS to do it, he fits the part," Majesty retorts. King shoots him a death look, complete with fangs. Stan cautiously brings a hand up to his shoulder, urging King to calm down.

"Mr. M doesn't need any of your lip, Melvin," King repeats his name, adding even MORE tears to my eyes. Perhaps I should act a bit grown up about this whole situation. But...hahaha MELVIN! HE'S A FUCKIN MELVIN!

"Ah-oh, all right boys, enough's enough," I finally say after a few moments. "Heh, oh man. Alright, Me-elvin," I hiccup, "if you're too much of a pussy to read off of a piece of paper, then let's find someone else in this classroom who's actually got some balls. Any volunteers?"

A chorus of hands raise. Apparently the whole debacle lifted the whole classes' spirits.

Among the eager hands, I spy an almost spastic Stan, jumping out of his desk and trying to elevate his hand above everyone else's. Ah, you know how kids are. Maybe I'm just imagining it. The hallucinations are coming back again.

"Alright, Stan, you seem pretty interested. Come up here," I coax him.

He beams at King before practically running to the front of the room. King looks amused as well as intrigued by his best friend's behavior. Stan practically grabs the paper from me, and starts reading at a ridiculously fast pace.

"StanMarshwasatypicalguywholikedvideogamesand-"

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there Stan," I say, trying not to bite my lip at the eagerness of the young boy.

"Right," Stan responds, nodding at me before continuing.

"Stan Marsh was a typical guy who liked video games and enjoyed getting into tea fights." Stan eyeballs the sentence, as if something familiar is registering in his brain, but then he continues. "He was best friends with Kyle...Brof...Lowski?" He looks at me to continue, and I nod.

All the while, King is leaning over his desk, his face sandwiched between his hands. He has the classic dreamy expression on his face. I think my heart just skipped a beat.

Christ, I'm turning into a girl.

Stan looks up, and the second their eyes meet, King loses the stare and sits up properly in his seat. All I can say is thank God for bangs, because that would have been a dead giveaway.

Stan looks back down at the paper. "T-they had known each other since kindergarten, and over the years, their friendship only strengthened as they experienced many trials and tri-bu-la-tions together, side by side. But somewhere along the way, something changed."

Little Stan continues, momentarily stuttering after his little brain comprehends that he and his best friend just had a moment. At least that's what I like to contribute the stutter to. "But before we can learn about the special bond between Stan and Kyle, we need to get to know Stanley Marsh himself." Stan looks to me with a bright smile, as if I'm supposed to congratulate him for reading my first paragraph.

I look over the class, and notice a few kids staring absently out the window, dozing off, and even some dipshit trying to balance a pencil on the end of his huge nose. I grumble, not wanting the kids to hear me, and rudely interrupt little Stan's reading. "Listen up," I address the class. "You want an A in the class, you gotta pay attention." I walk over to my desk, shuffle through a stack of papers, and hand them over to Stan.

"Pass these out for me, Stanley," I state, and he does as he's told. Everyone in this damn class is going to talk today. I'll make sure of it.

I notice Trevor scanning the page with a frown on his face, confusion growing.

"W-what exactly is this, Mr. M?" He asks me, seeming mildly worried.

"This, Trevor, is something I like to call role play. Alright everyone, break off into groups of two, preferably both of you being the same sex," I announce to the class, and the typical groups form.

I hear tubby snort with laughter, and Majesty mutters under his breath "fag". What a pity I happened to be walking by at that exact same time and my hand involuntarily reached out and collided with the back of his head.

Little shit.

Again, the mutants divide as they're told, Majesty with his tubby friend, Braids with...her gay crush girl...and of course King and Stan. Little Trevor sits alone.

I immediately take pity on the poor kid. I wonder if it's just this class he has no friends in.

"Hey Trevor, how'd you like to go first with me?" I ask him kindly.

"Uh, I-I guess so," he stutters out, flushing pink. This is going to turn out to be a really awkward experience for every student here.

Good. The sooner I can open their eyes, the happier their lives will be.

"Trevor, I'm going to play the role of my friend, Kyle Broflovski. You are going to read Stan's lines, okay?" I turn to the class. "This, my children, is the evolution of Style. Watch and learn."

I turn back to Trevor, signaling for him to begin. He opens his mouth, and after a few stutters, his voice starts flowing more freely than a river that had just risen twenty feet.

"H-hey Kyle, what's up?" Trevor starts.

I read the next line. "Nothing much, just putting the finishing touches on this calculus assignment."

"C-Calculus sucks. I'm so glad I didn't take it. It's so g-g-gay?" Trevor stutters from discomfort at saying the final word.

"Ch'yeah," I say, almost routinely. "Say, Stan, how about you and I go out for a burger tonight? Mom and dad'll be out late, so I don't have to worry about curfew."

Trevor looks to me with pleading eyes. I raise my eyebrows, and he swallows loudly, peering back down at the paper. "Sure, Kyle. Maybe afterwards, we can come back to your house and hang out."

"Stop. Excellent," I praise. "Who wants to go next?"

I see Braids raise her hand, along with her best friend, Darla or something or other.

"Alright Braids, you go next," I instruct. Braids growls 'it's Sandy' under her breath, but makes her way up nonetheless to pick up where we left off.

"That'd be killer. I just got a new video game, and I-" Braids looks at me disbelievingly, but I say nothing, so she continues. "-and I can't wait to pound your ass in it."

Darla shakes her head, as instructed to in the skit. "YOUR ass is MINE, Broflovski," she says through clenched teeth.

"We'll see." Braids sighs and rolls her eyes. "Mr. McCormick, do you honestly expect us to BELIEVE that boys talk this way?"

I nod. "Sure! This is a direct scene taken out of their day. It's the Style kids. It creeps up on ya, you don't even realize." I pause. "Continue.

Braids sighs as Darla continues to read. "Why don't we just order a pizza and have a sleepover then? We can stay up all night playing video games and pounding the shit out of each other. Ten bucks says I beat you."

"Oh yeah? Well ten bucks AND my toy model Ferrari say nuh-uh!"

Darla feigns shock. "But that's your favourite car EVER!"

I feel the beginning of a tear forming in the depths of my eye, they are so realistic. But their time is up. "Okay! Ladies, thank you, that was wonderful. Who's next?" After I mentally ignore little Stanley's shooting hand, I find my next victims. "Tubby! Mel chuckle Majesty! Your turn!"

Tubby extracts himself from the desk and Majesty follows closely behind, probably hiding in his fat shadow.

"I don't wanna," Majesty says childishly after emerging from behind tubby, crossing his arms.

I made a face at him. "You don't get a choice. Everyone's doing it. Stan here-" I say, gesturing at Young Stan, "-has already proved he's twice the man as you by reading that paragraph that you wouldn't. You want him to beat you out again?" Little Stan beams at my comment, and even King smiles a little.

Majesty growls. He turns his attention to the page before him. "Right. You can't outdo me, Kyle. I'll outlast you until you are begging for me to stop and pleading my...I can't do this," he tells me, interrupting my overly graphic thoughts.

Just as I feel the need for a wiseass comment of my own, Tubby continues without missing a beat. "You wanna bet? I'll wrestle you for dominance."

"And what the hell does THAT have to do with video games?" Majesty demands, eyes narrowing at me, face flushing hot.

I shrug. "Eh. No script is perfect."

"You probably just want us to talk like this to fulfill your own sick thoughts you pervert!" Majesty declares, face paling at the prospect.

Heh. The jackass has a point. "Alright, fair enough. Let's skip down to scenario II. Who wants to volunteer?" I ask, not ready for Stan and King to participate. I have a special scene picked out for them. One that'll possibly help King out a bit with his problem...

But for now, I look back to this pair who hasn't said a word in class or moved a muscle the entire time. I'll pick on them.

I gesture for curly blonde girl from yesterday, who is followed shortly thereafter by a short girl with thick black rimmed glasses and long black hair that hangs in her face. She's wearing a shirt with a skull on it; she so emo it's a little scary. What a strange pair.

Curls starts off. "Dude, I'm seriously going to fail that science test tomorow. I'm so screwed."

"I'll screw you if you don't help ME study for it," she says in monotone.

"McCormick you can't be fucking serious," I hear Majesty gripe, but I tune him out.

"You should learn to do your own work, Stan. I won't be able to hold your hand throughout life, ya know," Curls reads perfectly. Ah, music to my perverted ears.

Emo should have batted her eyes, but doesn't. "Why not? Then you can help me with EVERYTHING."

Curls rolls her eyes. "I already do, you -" she glances at the page, then turns to me, beckoning me down.

"Can we say that word in school?" She whispers nervously to me.

"Yeah, don't worry, its fine," I reassure her.

Curls turns back to Emo. "You - you - DUMBASS!"

"Okay, we get it! They always talk about each other's asses!" Majesty yells, high above the needed volume. "Does that really mean they WANT each other? Maybe they're just...really...bad...at saying stuff!"

I take a deep breath and exhale. "Patience, kid. You'll see." I signal that its time for another group to read, and two kids that I don't even remember seeing before skip up to the front and recite their lines. Time goes on, and these kids still don't have a damn clue what Style means. The Big Scene is soon to arrive, though. I need my star students for this. Its going to transform everyone's ways of thinking, let me tell you.

"Alright then, Stan and King, why don't you guys come up here?" I say casually after dismissing the last group. Stan bounds to the front of the classroom, whereas King takes his time, seeming reluctant to come up. I smile reassuringly at him as I hand the boys their lines.

"S-Stan," King stutters, and I notice the colour in his face darkens ever so slightly. "I have something to say." The fact that Stan and Stan share the same name must make this even more awkward.

"What, Kyle?" Stan responds innocently. I doubt this is going to penetrate his naive brain, but I sure as hell am gonna try. Any normal kid would know exactly what's going on as soon as King stuttered his name. But not Stan. He's an oblivious little boy, and even though the whole world knows of King's feelings for him, he's as clueless as a blind man watching a porno.

"Well-erm, you see. It's just that-" King sounds so genuine, I can't remember if I wrote that or if he's just doing his own thing. He takes a breath of air, and tries to keep it cool. "It's just that - there's this movie out, see. And - I wanted to know if you wanted to see it with me?" He lets the last part out in all one breath.

Stan smiles kindly. "Sure. We always do that."

"Okay, hang on for a sec, guys," I tell them. "Okay, class, see where this is going? There has been a switch somewhere. Kyle's got more on his mind than just "seeing a movie" with Stan." I look to King. "Right?"

He bashfully – and I mean act-like-a-turtle-and-shrink-back-in-your-hair-shell bashful -nods in agreement. Little Stan looks to me with the clearest, bluest eyes I have ever known anyone to have.

"Yeah, it's so obvious that Kyle likes Stan," the naive boy states clearly. "How could anyone not notice?" King looks like he wants to sink into a hole in the ground.

I have to bite my lip hard to keep from laughing out loud at this. I bite right through my lip in fact, and taste blood.

Little Stan frowns at me. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," I say in a tight voice. "Please, continue."

King's line is next, but he has stopped speaking. His mouth is poised, ready for action, but nothing is coming out. Finally, he looks up at me, and for the first time, I see the horror in his eyes, unshielded.

Okay, I feel a bit bad now. But I'm honestly doing him a favor! I give him the "its okay" look that I've practiced my whole life and wait for him to continue. Please don't let this plan backfire.

King manages to snap back into it, but only slightly. "W-well then that's good. W-wanna grab a bite to eat b-before then too? Like, pizza or s-something?" King is stuttering so badly I could practically mistake him for Trevor. Well, maybe not THAT bad. But still.

Stan, seeming mildly concerned at his friend's new dialect, continues on. "Whatever. Wanna help me with my English assignment too? I can't think of a good topic for it."

King gulps. "How about English can...bl-b-blow me..." He stops completely again. I see him close his eyes, even though the curtain of hair. Finally, he looks to Stan, smiling. "It's the weekend, dude. Let's have fun."

Stan smiles back at his friend. "Deal."

I wrote in the script that Stan is supposed to grab "Kyle" by the shoulders and they are supposed to walk "off" to their movie, but I feel the milk come out of my nose when he actually does it. Holy shit!

They stay that way all the way back to their desks. If anyone other than me was looking carefully, they'd notice the slight goofy grin on King's face, and even slighter blush across his cheeks. Stan seems to take this as a hint that he's done a good job, so he's absolutely beaming. Nice kid, but goddamn he's a dumbass.

"You okay Lu? You looked sick up there for a moment," Stan informs his best friend.

King nods his head, seemingly still on cloud nine. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I hear Majesty let out air out of his mouth - it's probably extra from his inflated ego - as King continues to stare out into outer space. I see him open his mouth for some jerk off comment, but I counterattack it instead with my next assignment. "Okay, ladies and gents. We've all got a taste of how Style came to be. Evolution. It's real. Learn it. LIVE it." I clear my throat. "And now, we're going to give you a first-hand chance to create your OWN Style scenario!"

"You can switch pairs or keep the ones you have," I continue. "It needs to be - let's say, around a minute I guess? You can improvise or read from paper, I don't care, but be creative!"

The kids busily get to work. Stan has to wave his hand in front of King's face before gaining his attention.

"Lucas, come on, you gotta pay attention!" He whines at King. Huh. So that's his name.

I like King better.

Not long after I have sat down to leaf through their assignments, I spy brown hair on the other side of my desk. "Mr. M, c-can I be excused from this assignment?" Trevor asks timidly.

I drop the papers and look at him quizzically. "What? No! Why?"

I watch as he lowers his eyes to the ground and he kicks at an invisible rock with his shoe. "Because I don't like nobody like that." He pauses. "And nobody likes me like that neither."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "You don't have to actually like someone like THAT, it's just an exercise," I explain. "Most of the kids here probably aren't even remotely gay, or lesbian for that matter."

"B-but no one wants to be my partner," he responds, lower lip quivering.

"That's not true, Trevor," I say, even though that seems to be the case. Why don't you join a group? Three people won't be bad for improv." I really have no idea how to handle these lost souls. I feel so bad for him, but can I really tell him that he's right? He's too cute, and eventually, someone'll adopt him for a friend. He cheers up a bit and then walks back to join fatass and Majesty's group. Ooookay, well, I wouldn't have picked those two, but I guess he likes a challenge.

"I'll give you guys five more minutes!" I announce, and the class simultaneously groans. In the meanwhile, I decide to busy myself by leafing through a few of these reports here. I reach Stan's, and I pull it out, interested, as I begin to read.

The kid has covered the front page with an amateur doodle of King and himself, throwing a football or some ball-like object, I can't tell. They are both smiling, and it is roughly coloured in with pencil crayons.

I start reading the inside. "The most important person in my life right now to me is my best friend. He has been my best friend since I was old enough to say his name. He and I have been through everything together. I can't wait for more of everything to happen with us together again. Ha, he's cute. Slightly dimwitted, but cute.

I want to see what his best friend chose to write about.

Decidedly saving the rest of Stan's for later, I come across King's. It is in a professional duo tang folder, and he even went so far as to make a proper printed title page. Very professional for someone his age. I turn to the first page.

"What is a best friend? Some say it is one soul in two bodies. I don't believe that. A best friend is someone who has their own soul, and your similarities and differences coexist in a united display of platonic affection." Jesus Christ, this kid writes way older than his age

I read on. "Stanley Benton III was, at first contact, the greatest friend a man could ask for. As a child, we became inseparable, and his loyalty withstands even the devotion of the Tibetan monks to Buddha. Our friendship has never faltered on account of an outer source spreading false accusations about me. Perhaps it is his naivety that I love most." Oh my lord, this kid has professed his love at age 11. He BETTER get what he wants. He deserves it; I am going to switch my ideas of Style to the makings of Sting. I scan over the rest briefly, because I notice time is running out, but I see a small, handwritten blurb at the end. "Please don't show this to anyone Mr. M. It's for my grade only. I can't risk other eyes and the loss of my best friend."

I tear my eyes away from the juvenile writing and notice King looking straight back at me. He knows I've been looking at his essay. Discreetly, I slip him an acknowledging wink, and he smiles ever so slightly before turning back to Stan. I clap my hands together to get the classes' attention.

"Alright, time's up," I announce to the class. "Who wants to go first?"

But just as these words escape my lips, the end of class bell rings, and I sigh in disappointment.

"Alright then, tomorrow I guess," I say, and I wave off the brats with my hand.

I get a bunch of high-pitched "byes" and "see you laters" as the entire class files out of the room, seemingly before the bell even ends. Ha, they're probably nervous about the improv. Hey, you gotta test SKILLS in Mr. M's class.

"Yoo hoo," I hear a sweet voice coo. "Keeeennny." Speaking of skills...there is a tall, luscious beauty standing in my doorway.

"Hey, pretty lady. What's a cute thing like you doing in a shithole like this?" I say in a sexy voice, advancing towards my wife.

"I work here Kenny, remember?" She responds, raising an eyebrow at me. I resist the urge to smack myself in the forehead.

Instead, I give her a seductive glance up and down, and she responds by licking her lips. "Do you have some place to be?" she asks me.

"The closet," I tell her.

"Whoa, Kenny, that's where I was thinking of going! We are totally on the same wave path, ohmygod," she explains, as she hooks her arm in mine and we exit my classroom with our destination in mind.

"And this time, let's avoid the mop bucket," she says, remembering the last time the closet was occupied.

I smile at her. "And the Javex. That stuff burns your eyes." I squeeze my wife's hand, and open the closet door for her.

Always a gentleman, no matter the circumstances.


	3. Everyone gets a C

Chapter 3 – Everyone gets a C

Another day rolls around, and I can honestly say I'm starting to get the hang of this stuff. It doesn't hurt that because of this shithole establishment, this is only a three day week for me. Today's Friday...the weekend is hours away, and that means nonstop bedroom time with the misses.

I kind of missed teaching for that reason. Sure, over the summer, we fucked basically every single day, often multiple times. But, during school, five days are dedicated to teaching brats, leaving no time for full day sex marathons. And being deprived for that long (hey, it's long for me), just makes it that much hotter. If there's a sex Olympics, we'd totally take gold.

Heh, sex Olympics. THERE SHOULD BE SEX OLYMPICS. I'd win "most valuable" and "most improved", every single fucking year. No wonder they recruited me for sex-ed. They realize they're employing a low-profile celebrity.

Speaking of sex, Porshea is distracting me from finishing up these papers.

"Kenny," she whines, leaning over my desk and squeezing her very exposed chest together. Only a few more minutes until the first period bell rings, so I can get a good...five minutes with her in.

I lean forwards in my chair, giving her a brief kiss while copping a feel at the same time. She runs her hands down my chest slowly. I swear to God I'm the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth. And as much as I want to have her there and then, I know kids will be trickling in any moment, and I REALLY need to finish marking these papers.

"Swee-TEE!" I squeal as her hand lowers and then grabs hold. She leans in to meet me, and begins biting my ear. DAMN, woman! She's just as ready to go as I am.

A small little voice clears its throat, and I turn my head to face the child standing in the doorway, mesmerized (and most likely excited) at the sight before him.

As much as I hate to interrupt your little grope-fest," Majesty begins, smirking all the while, "I came to this classroom to learn god-knows-what, not to be traumatized."

I sighed disappointedly as Porshea released her hold on me. "I'll see you later baby," she informs me while winking seductively. I just about pitch a tent right there. As she leaves, I notice Majesty's eyes follow her ass out the door.

"You like that, do ya?" I ask him, obviously interrupting his adolescent thoughts. He turns to me and narrows his eyes, to which I laugh. "Keep up your asshole attitude, and girls like THAT will never go near you."

"Can it, McCormick, I've gotta talk to you," he tells me.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "If you're just here to complain about my methods, you can just walk your tiny person back out the door."

Majesty raises his arms up in defense. "No, I think I've already made it pretty clear what I think about your methods. This is about something else."

Okay, now I'm intrigued. "So you gonna tell me or what?"

Majesty hesitates. "Have you ever…" he starts.

"Come on, kid. Spit it out." I can see him twitching in nervousness. I've gotta give the little brat credit. Coming to ME before class. I thought he hated me.

Majesty sighs, acting as if he's swallowing his last pit of pride. "Have you ever liked a girl and not known whether she likes you back?"

I snort. No. "Oh sure," I fake. "Lots of times." Whoa, is Majesty coming to ME for girl advice? I TOTALLY own this school.

No, wait. I more than own this school. This school is my bitch. And I am its pimp.

"So what did you do to find out?" Majesty's words bring me out of my very vivid mental image of a school building dressed in a leather thong, leopard bra, and walking on two very sexy woman legs with fishnets and stilettos.

"Huh? Find what out?"

"TOFINDOUTWHETHERSHELIKESYOU!" he huffs impatiently.

"Oh..."

He takes another step up to my desk. "Did you kiss her?"

Ha, okay. I could either be really really nice, or be really really mean. Do I like this kid enough to give him real advice? But, shit, if I give him bad advice, he could be doomed to walk this earth alone forever. Am I really that cruel?

I decide to be nice to Majesty, for once. Who knows? Maybe he could meet the woman -ahem- girl, of his dreams and she could totally change him. I doubt it though.

"Um, well before you kiss her, you should have some sort of hint if she likes you or not," I begin. "How often do you talk to said person? Do you know them well?"

Majesty shifts his foot uneasily. "Not exactly… once she asked me if it was supposed to rain."

Haha. Aw. He doesn't stand a chance. "Do you know anything ABOUT her?" I continue.

"I know she's got an ass like your wife's..." I see him stop breathing and his eyes go wide as he awaits punishment from me. But hey, what're ya gonna do? Porshea's ass IS breathtaking.

"Nice," I comment instead. I shake my head. "No, you can't...you can't base your feelings off of how she makes you feel... there…

Majesty looks momentarily confused. "There?" he begins, but then a light flickers in his eyes. "Oh! THERE, right. Well, she makes me feel in other places too. Like ... she wrote a speech about the dangers of smoking once, and she told it to the class. And she looked at me once, and I think she smiled."

Oh dear. The smartass has it bad. "Did you EVER start a conversation with her?" I try to probe.

"I told her that day that it WAS actually supposed to rain." He pauses. "And then I ran away." I shake my head again.

"Melvin, Melvin, Melvin...uh...can I call you Mel? Mel! You've gotta GET YOURSELF OUT THERE! Let her know you EXIST!"

"She knows I exist," he stubbornly defends.

"No. She knows you're a guy with possible weather updates."

"That still counts as existing."

"NOT as a possible love interest," I spell out for him. "The first step is talking to her. Go up and start a conversation. Ask her about herself, what she likes, and at least PRETEND to be interested. For God's sakes, how else is she supposed to know that you like her?"

Melvin pauses. "Well what if she doesn't like me back?"

There's other girls out there that will," I assure him. I'm glad we're having this heart-to-heart. Maybe he won't be such a prick in the classroom.

Majesty pouts. "How the hell is THAT supposed to help me? I don't want other girls."

I look at him sideways. "Well, that may or may not happen. You can't always get what you want." Why am I reminded of King and Stan there? "Sing it with me."

Majesty looks at me like I'm ten thousand years old and asked him to recite the Constitution of the USA, word for word. Come on, dude, I'm not THAT old. I look at him incredulously. "Rolling Stones? Mick Jagger? Keith Richards? Ring any bells?"

"Like I'm supposed to remember your old boyfriends, McCormick," he huffs.

I roll my eyes. This kid is missing out on life. "Anyways," I say, trying to get back to the subject at hand, "what I'm saying is if this girl isn't interested, then find someone else who is. And just as a hint, girls generally don't like guys that are total pricks. Unless they're prostitutes. Prostitutes like eighty year old hermaphrodites on viagra though, so they don't count."

Majesty sticks his tongue out in disgust. "I ain't no hermafrite!" Ah, he's resumed his holier-than-thou attitude, I can see it in the gleam of his eyes.

The bell rings. "I don't need this, I can have ANY girl I want," he boasts, looking completely unsure under his ego.

Fine. I tried to be nice.

"All right then, good luck with life being alone," I say snidely, ruffling through the small stack of paper I've actually finished grading, retrieving his. "Oh, and here's your paper back."

Majesty grabs it, eyes widening in shock. "What the hell? Just a C?"

"Nonono, your thumb's in the way," I point out. He moves it.

"A C minus? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"I don't know, YOU wrote it," I joke, but he sees no humor in my extremely comical jab.

"I hate you," he mutters as he spins around and looks for his seat next to tubby. Aw. The love my students spread. Such a warm feeling.

The students file in, and I have yet to finish grading the reports. Aw, shit. As everyone takes their seats, I clear my throat, directing attention to myself.

"All right, you guys have fifteen minutes to finish preparing your skits. And they damn well better be awesome, because you got way more time than what I was going to give you."

I hear whines and whimpers, but I ignore it. If I didn't know better, I'd think these students actually wanted QUALITY teaching time. Ha! Pre-teenage mutant crazy kids.

I try to do that keep-one-eye-on-the-classroom bit, but it's kind of hard when one of your eyes has shitty vision due to an unfortunate smelting accident. I glance up in between papers to make sure they are in check.

I glance up to see Stan and Kyle appearing to be practicing their lines to each other. Shit. I mean Stan and King. Damn kids are throwing me off.

I look back down at the papers. Written by some person named Charlie. This kid writes some pretty fucked up stuff.

'Why must one love, if it brings only pain? Why must we search for a lifetime for other beings referred to as friends, when all creation ends in a dark unending pit of doom?' I read aloud in my head. Jesus.

I drop my red pen and fish out a bright pink one. Then, with careful precision, I draw little flowers all over the top right corner and color them in. I scratch the words "Very Inspiring" on top of those sickening flowers, and the letter "C". C is for Completely Fucked. Next paper, please.

I rifle through, finding Trevor's. Well, it technically says Simon on the front, but I scratch it out with said pink pen and write in caps lock TREVOR. Apparently his last name is Swallows. Heh, heh.

I start to read. "My best friend is my pet gerbil named Larry. We do all sorts of things together, but mostly he just plays in his ball and I feed him. I take very good care of Larry." Oh man, is this kid for real? We've gotta get him hooked up with some decent buddies!

I read on. "Larry and I got in a fight the other day. He was playing on his wheel after I told him it was time to go to bed. I don't think he likes me very much. Guess he's not much of a friend after all."

Shit, if my empathy tear ducts weren't extinct, I think I might cry for Trevor.

I can't read anymore, it's too depressing. I etch out a B for 'I really want a Bologna sandwich right now but I don't get my paycheck for another week so I can't Buy it quite yet', and pass it on. I make a mental note to find Trevor some friends in the near future. I search through my pile and come back to King's.

I've read it three times and still can't beleive a sixth grader wrote it. His grammar is perfect, and he uses words that even I don't know. Plus he made a bibliography at the end. This kid is something else.

Well, I already know I HAVE to give him an A. That'd be sacrilegious not to.

I move onto Stan's gay little report. This kid is a closet flamer, I believe this with all my heart. He's even drawn his little drawing in RAINBOW colors!

Somewhere inside, there's a gay boy yearning to break free. I'm going to help him.

'Lucas is my best friend, and I love him. But not like that. Just like friends. Only better, because we're best friends.' Good god this kid rambles. I'm going to change the way you think kid. I award him a BB. One B is for the eventual Boner he's going to have for his friend in the future. The other is still for that Bologna sandwich I really, really want. I wonder if I could smuggle a few dollars out of one of those mall fountains.

After a few more papers, I look up the clock. It's been fifteen minutes. The kids are staring at me without blinking. I think I need to wrap this up. Everyone gets a "C." Especially this last paper from Tubby. Listen:

"My best friend in the whole world is Mr. Kenneth McCormick. I knew from the first time I met him that he'd be an excellent guy for teaching me stuff. He's my favorite teacher and he deserves a big pie. Just like his prize student."

I make a mental note to ask Porshea to bake King a pie. "Alright class, time's up. Who wants to go first?"

I see Majesty give Trevor a death glare as he eagerly shoots his hand in the air. Aw, poor kid is happy to have a group to work with. "Alright, Trevor, you guys are up!"

Trevor prances to the front of the classroom, while Majesty makes an unnecessary amount of grunts and complaints as he shuffles to the front. I almost forgot he was here, that little pain in the ass. Tubby is stuck in his chair. I hear him ask "a little help?" as Majesty comes back to rescue him. They both walk up together, reluctantly.

All three of them line up like soldiers in front of the class. They count to three together on their fingers before proceeding with their story.

"This class is sooo lame," Majesty begins.

"Not as lame as your mom!" Tubby counterattacks.

"Dude, don't even try. Everyone knows you have the hots for dudes."

"I just love my best friend here. If that makes me hot for him, then I guess I am," Tubby says, roping an arm around a curious Trevor.

"Well, gee, Sam, I don't like you that way," Trevor retorts. This earns a slap on the arm from Majesty.

"Dumbass! LIKE WE REHEARSED!"

"Oh." Trevor balls his fists. "I mean, I'm very excited to have all the hot sweaty man sex with you, Sammy." His voice is mechanic, and while it's hard for me not to laugh, I somehow manage as I mark a big fat F in the grade book for Majesty and his companion. Trevor, I give an A. He doesn't know no better.

"Alright, who's next then?" I scan around and choose Curls, who once again comes up with emo girl. I wonder if they really are close friends, because it just seems so odd. Curls with her frills and pink, emo girl with her well, her emo-ness.

Curls takes a breath. "Charlie, I have something to say to you, and it is very hard for me to say this."

Emo's face never changes expression. "What?"

"I think I'm falling for your womanhood," Curl girl cries.

"Really. That's fantastic. I've been falling for you too. I don't know what is happening to me. It is out of my control. Oh help me, please help me-"

"CUT!" I scream. "Okay...even though it's hard for me to stop all of this emotion-filled confession, I've heard enough." I mark down a C, cause that emo chick rubs me the wrong way.

"NEXT!"

I reluctantly select hick boy from the first day of classes, and he comes up with nerdy boy. Huh. Go figure.

Billy Bob or whatever starts off in his southern accent. "Well gee whiz Scott, I shore do lyke ewe a whole lot!"

Nerdy boy replies. "Yes, I do believe that the probability of a romantic relationship involving the like has about a fifty percent chance of survival and a fifty percent chance of failure, so why take unprecedented risks and let's just remain companions, and nothing more."

"Shyoot, Scott, don't be shy. We can be more if ya just let meh in!" Redneck squeezes up next to the nerd nice and tight, and I can tell that Scott is very uncomfortable with the situation. Perhaps I discovered another Style? Ew. I shudder to picture THAT couple. Ew.

"NEXT!" I bellow.

I see Stan's hand, eagerly in the air as always. Why does he even bother putting it down? "Alright, how about Stan and Ky-ing!" I quickly cover up, hoping no one notices. King is looking right at me, I'll bet he's glaring. "Stan and King, you go next." The boys make their way to the front of the room, and count to three on their fingers much like how Majesty's group did.

"Hey Stan, what's up?" King voices to Stan nonchalantly.

"Um…er… nothing much" Stan mumbles into the ground. Ahaha, they reversed roles!

"Well, what are you doing tonight?" King inquires nonetheless. He seems much more comfortable now, pretending to be the oblivious one.

"Well...that depends on you, Lu."

I see King's shoulders drop. Uh oh. Stan's gotten to him again. I hope he can put up the front for the skit's sake. "I think I'm just gonna stay home tonight. You know, actually be a good boy for once."

Stan nods, and I'm not sure, but I THINK I just saw his cheeks darken.

King pretends to think of a new idea. "Hey, why don't you come over too? And then we can watch TV and do stuff."

Stan twiddles his fingers. "Um, I dunno… I've got a lot of… of… homework, yeah," he trails off lamely.

King pretends to be annoyed and gives his best friend a light shove. "Come on dude, you've been blowing me off for weeks. What's up?"

Stan purses his lips and frowns. "Nothing," he claims, almost defensively.

"Whatever, Stan. I'm your best friend. You can tell me ANYTHING."

"Not this," I hear Stan whisper. The look on King's face makes me wonder if that was part of their rehearsed skit or not. Could it be? COULD IT BE! Ha, I sound like an excited school girl.

"Why not dude? Is this about a girl or something?" King says softly, after momentarily seeming to forget his lines.

Stan shakes his head. "No."

"Then what the hell is it? I deserve to know Stan!" King almost seems to be demanding the last part to Stan. Like King is asking if Stan likes him right here, in front of the class.

Stan assumes an aggressive stance, and he appears taller than before. "I SAID IT'S NOTHING!" After allowing his tiny voice to echo throughout the room, he drops from his toes, and clears his throat. "Okay, let's go hang out at your house."

King is still shocked, as am I, from the initial impact of such a strong voice from such a small kid. "You...sure?" he clarifies.

Stan nods and smiles, returning to his normal self. "I'd love to spend time with you, Lu."

"Really?" King asks softly. I can't tell if this is even on their script anymore.

"Really," Stan replies, and he gives King a big hug in front of the whole class, which a blushing King returns after a moment. The second Stan breaks away, he turns to me.

"How was that?" He asks me excitedly, practically hopping on the spot. I feel my own face fall along with King's.

"That was...good, Stan-" I begin, but am interrupting by an annoying high-pitched cackle that sounds more like a hyena than a child. I turn to the disturbance, and sure enough, there's Majesty falling over the desk, pounding his fist down and shaking violently. He lifts his head so I can see the tears streaming down from his face. He chokes on them, and it makes me return his laughter.

"That was TOO great, Stan," he cries.

Stan frowns, uncertain if this is a compliment or insult. "Uh thank you?" He responds with a mildly confused expression.

Majesty wipes the tears from his eyes. "Seriously. The way you screw with his head, it's awesome. You are my IDOL!" He declares, pointing at Stan and dissolving into another fit of laughter.

Stan puzzles over this. "Screw with his head? We're just pretending."

"Hahaha. Sure you are. Just like he PRETENDS to like gir-"

"OKAY, MAJESTY!" I bellow, loud enough to catch the attention of the entire school, if not planet. "That's it! I've had ENOUGH of your bullshit!" I march--and I mean MARCH--to my desk, pulling out a detention slip and an office referral. "You have disturbed my class too many times. Get your ass to the principals' office."

Majesty's tears dry up in less than a second. "I'm just playin, McCormick!"

"NOW!" I scream.

"Fine!" Majesty screams back, storming out of the classroom. Stan huffs disapprovingly at Majesty's behavior. It would have been comical if it hadn't been for the fact that my attention is fixed on the boy standing next to him. King seems frozen to the spot, fists clenched, and mouth in a tight line. I see him twitch slightly. I hope he's okay.

"King?" Stan turns to his best friend, worried. "Don't worry about him. He's just being mean."

He puts a caring hand on King's shoulder, and stands there, awaiting a response. "Lu..." he begins.

"FUCK YOU!" King yells unexpectedly, yanking his body back into his own possession. He drops his head so that his hair shields his eyes, and I know he is ready to cry. I know he is even more ready to, now that he realizes he just told his best friend that.

Stan looks like he just got slapped across the face. He blinks once, twice, and then something clicks, and his eyes go deadly. It's really scary, coming from a normally happy person like him.

"What."

King looks horrified at what he just said. He claps his hand over his mouth, and tries to keep his wavering voice steady. "Dude…Stan, I-"

Little Stanley gives him no chance to explain. He instead walks steadily back to his seat and sits down. But, as he does so, he pushes the desk that King was at a few feet further away from his own space. He folds his arms across his chest and looks to me for direction...cause I know he's lost right now.

Poor King. He can't...I watch him...in pity...dammit I'm not supposed to FEEL this kind of attachment to students!

I move towards King, but just then the bell rings. Little Stanley is the first to bolt and run, a movement that pains King even more. I watch as everyone else leaves the classroom, yet King still makes no action to go. Instead he just stands there. After the last person has left, King turns to me.

"I… I didn't mean it," I can barely decipher from him. His voice is so quiet that he's nearly mouthing the words.

I frown. "I know you didn't. He knows too, I'm sure. He's just hurt right now. He wouldn't expect that to come from you," I explain. I know it's true. Stan knows in his heart that King would NEVER say that to him. Just like Stan and Kyle, they love each other too much. They're my own spawns of Style. I have never been happier to teach sex-ed than I am right now. And now its time to patch things up, Kenny style.

"Bu-but, he HATES me now!" King exclaims, and before I can put another word in, he dissolves into tears, and my heart breaks a little. Poor kid.

"Hey, hey, none of that," I attempt to console. "It'll be fine, he can't stay mad forever, trust me on this one."

"I'm such an IDIOT!" Aw man, he's starting in with the put downs. I'm no good at comforting. And Porshea is totally pole dancing in the doorway--I can sense her from a mile away. That, and her perfume is really strong today.

"Dude, look. Don't cry. Stan...believe me. I know him." King stops his rolling tears briefly to look back at me, perplexed.

"Well," I correct, "I don't know HIM. But, well, you know what I mean," I attempt. God, I'M the idiot.

King looks at me, puzzled. "What?"

"You know," I attempt to explain. "Big Stan, little Stan, they're practically the same person! It's a little weird, actually."

I see a faint smile appear on King's face. "He's not that little." It takes a moment to register that King just made a dirty comment.

A wide grin helplessly spreads across my face, and I lay both my hands onto King's shoulders. "This is a minor set back. He'll...forget about it in a day."

King's smile fades again. "A whole day?" He closes his eyes and beats his head against an invisible brick wall. "I was still talking to that jackass Melvin! I thought HE was hassling me again! I would never -EVER- hurt my Stan."

MY Stan? Oh dear God I think I'm going to have a premature orgasm on the spot. "I'm sure he knows that, King," I tell him reassuringly, trying my best to hide any glow from his previous statement.

He sighs.

"Oh, and dude. Your paper. Shit, dude! Are you EVER going to let him know any of that?"

King looks horrified. "What? He'll totally freak out, and then he won't want to be my friend anymore! You're not going to tell him are you?"

I shake my head, reassuring the boy. "No, that's up to you. But shit dude. You write like ten years ahead of your time! Why the hell are you not in the gifted program at some hoity-toity school?"

King grins at this. "Sometimes I do bad on purpose. That way I can still be near Stan, and they can't take me away anywhere."

I put my arm around the kid, directing him toward the door. "Your secret's safe with me, Lucas." His name sounds funny. "As long as you don't pretend to do bad in here, okay?" Holy shit, I just urged my student to try in class!

This is a whole new playing field for me.

King looks up at me and smiles, his tears fading fast. "I won't. I promise. Thanks Mr. M." And like that, he's out of my hair. And Porshea has run over to me playing WITH my hair.

"Heyyyyy Kenny," she coos at me, curling a lock of my hair around her finger. "I can't wait for tonight, can you?"

I grab my wife by the waist. "I can't wait for tonight either. Actually, I can't wait at all. Let's go." We leave the classroom, frolicking down the hallways to 'our' closet. We pass by the boys bathrooms on the way.

"One moment, I have to take a piss," I inform her. "I 'll be back in a sex. I mean sec."

Porshea giggles an insanely high-pitched giggle she does EVERYTIME I "mistake" those words. "Oh Kenny, you're such a tease."

Ha. She waits impatiently outside the door. I see her unbutton the top button of her shirt. For what? Preparation, baby. When you're trained professionals like us, you know to be ready to go! No delays.

Wait, what's this? I hear a little whimper coming from one of the stalls. And since this school sucks with money, I have to pee with the little kids.

And since I feel like having a heart today, I guess I'll see what's up with the crying boy.

I walk over to the stall from which the cries originate, and knock gently on the door. "You all right in there, big guy?" I ask.

"Go away," is the cliché response I get. But the voice sounds familiar. I peek through the tiny space between the door, and see a mess of black hair.

It's totally Stan.

"Stan?" I ask curiously, only to make it look like I wasn't totally gawking at a student in the bathroom.

He sniffs in response.

"Stan, it's Mr. M, can I come in?"

I wait a moment, and then the door swings open ever so slightly. I take the opportunity to slip through the door, relocking it behind me, not caring how bad this looks. I turn around and see little Stan, peering up at me through the spaces in his fingers since his hands cover his face. His hair is disheveled, like he had just been ruffling it within an inch of its life. I bend down onto my knees, so I'm at his level.

"L-Lucas doesn't l-l-like me anymoooooooore!" he whines so softly but yet filled with emotion. I'm sure his little world is breaking right now. I can't even imagine how it would feel to secretly love someone and feel that person hates you when really they secretly love you back and you could totally get together and not be secret about it anymore. Screw the fact they're still too young to have chest hair.

"Hey, hey, hey, that's not true!" I exclaim, rubbing Stan's back consolingly.

"It is so!" he hiccups at me. "He said the 'f' word to me! And-and I don't even know what I d-d-did!" More tears freefall down his face.

"Shhh, you didn't do anything wrong Stan!"

"Th-then why's he mad?"

This may be my chance to help out King and his problem. "He's not mad at you, Stan."

"Then why'd he yell at meeee!" His crying is causing a pain in my chest. Oh god, am I having a heart attack at age 28?

"Look at me, Stan," I instruct him. Without his attention, he won't listen to me. He sniffs several more times, wipes his nose off on his sleeve, and looks at me through glassy eyes. "King is NOT mad at you. Sometimes people say things they don't mean towards other people. You were not who he was yelling at--he just happened to think you were someone else. Someone who makes fun of him."

He sniffs again. "I would NEVER make fun of him. He is my bestest friend."

"I know," I say, realizing I'm going to have to spell it out for him. "But who was making fun of you guys when he yelled at you?"

Stan looks at me inquiringly. "Me-Me-Melvin?" he asks me.

"Exactly. So do you maybe think that since Melvin (snort) was making fun of the way you call him Lu, maybe King snapped a little?"

"B-but I like calling him Lu. I'm the only one that does it. It's my special name for him." He frowns. Man, am I going to have to tell him everything? The kid's so dense, I could probably say his best friend wants to bone him, and he would say "but I LIKE being his best friend."

"That's the point. That's YOUR nickname for him. Not Melvins." Haha, that name gets me everytime. Ah, be serious Kenny.

Stan looks at me, confused. "I don't get it."

I try not to roll my eyes. How can I tell him, without giving away too much? "Erm..Stan, have you ever thought that since YOU'RE the only one who calls him that, other…um…kids, may think there's something… uh else going on?"

"Huh?" he asks, puzzled beyond all belief. Clearly, his little brain has never thought that far, because he looks like he's trying to divide 468,000 by 35 in his head. Finally, his eyes get really big, and I see a faint blush form on his face.

Wait. One. Minute. This kid is seriously blushing! Could it be? I try my best to stay calm.

"Wh-why would people think that?" he stutters. His body stiffens, making me suspect something that I hadn't seen before.

"Uh-well see Stan-" I start, but he interrupts me.

"I mean, that's so dumb. We're friends. Just friends. Well, best friends. But not like that. I don't like him like that. And he doesn't like ME like that!"

Each time I open my mouth to speak, I can't find the right words. I look around the stall, nodding to Stan, but he has absolutely no idea what I'm nodding at. How to attack this issue, but keep King in the clear...for now.

"Yeah. You're best friends." I swallow, trying to get some wetness into my dry throat. "Don't ever think King is mad at you. Or hates you. It's not true." He loves you.

SHIT! Almost said that out loud.

Stan smiles lightly, reassured. "You-you're sure?"

"Absolutely. I bet if you went to go talk to him, he'd apologize right away, and then you guys can go right back to being the best of friends!" And maybe something more.

Stan beams at me. "I'm going to go do that right now!" he exclaims, his happy attitude back. He stands up while wiping the remainder tears off of his face.

I smile and watch him practically frolic out the door. I stand with a goofy grin on my face for about 2.5 minutes until I remember what I originally came in to do.

I do my duty, making sure to wash my hands, and exit the premise. Porshea is tapping her nails on the brick wall.

"What took you so long?" She whines at me.

I smile at her. "There was a student distress call. Some kid was crying in the bathroom, but I made it all better."

"Kenny, you are like, so sweet!" she gushes at me.

I grin mischievously, pulling myself nearer to her. "I'm all sugar, baby."

Her eyes light up. "Like a lollipop?"

I lick my lips. "You can suck on me anytime."

"Great. How about now?" She says, pinching my ass. God DAMN I love my wife.

"Now sounds good." I grab my wife by the arm and lead her into the dark confines of the closet.

I close the door, making sure it's locked. No repeats of last year's incidents.

Four minutes later, I close my eyes.

"This does NOT taste like a lollipop, Kenny."

----

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	4. A Hard Lesson in Tolerance

Chapter Four – A Hard Lesson in Tolerance

Man, two days is NOT long enough for a weekend. The Sex Olympics took up entirely too much time when I could have been doing other...wait a minute. Too much time? TOO MUCH TIME!? Kenny, goddammit, don't be a pansy-ass. You can handle it.

"Sorry I'm late," I announce as I stumble into the classroom, breathing heavily. The bell rings just as I close the door, making my apology unnecessary. Five years have gone by and Kenny McCormick has YET to be late to school. Somebody give me a fucking congratulatory medal.

"Nice one," King nods at me in approval. "Another second and we would have had to write you an office referral for tardiness." I chuckle at this, shaking my head as I throw my crap down on my desk, making a rather impressive thump. Stan smiles sweetly at King, touching his shoulder as King beams back at him.

In my head, I perform a double fist pump. Chalk another one up for the Kenmeister.

I look around the room for something to start my completely unprepared lesson with, and realize I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I pat down my chest and torso, looking for I guess chalk or a pen or something, and dig through my pockets. This way the kids see that I'm actually looking for something...

It's not like I just came in here without a lesson to teach in the same clothes I wore yesterday or anything. Oh Jesus, I'm still wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.

"What's the matter McCormick, forgot that you actually had to plan out something for the day?" Majesty spits out with contempt. "This is pathetic. You're not even prepared, and you look like shit. What'd you do, sleep in the same clothes all weekend?"

Majesty adds an extra throb to my already pounding head. "Could you just - shut up - for one second?" I say in his direction, holding up my index finger while ruffling through my drawers, pockets, anything for some sort of hangover relief.

"Mr. M, you told me you were going to give us silent reading time for the first half of class today, remember?" King says with a wink as soon as I look over to him. Stan turns his head to acknowledge his friend and smiles the brightest smile I have ever seen ANYONE smile.

Somebody made up...

"Oh, right!" I say, playing off of King's words as I frantically look around the room for any sort of reading material. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a cluster of books. I practically sprint over to them, finding a random assortment of books on sexual reproduction. I flip through one or two, trying not to snicker at the drawings and the anal retentive-ness of the labels. I pick up an armful of them, throwing them haphazardly on each student's desk. "Here's some books. Go wild."

"Uh...Mr. M," I hear an unsure voice behind me as I turn to walk back to my desk.

I whirl around to face Stan. "Yes?"

"You told us we could bring our own books too, didn't you?"

Christ, how do these kids KNOW I'm going to fuck up? I glance around the room and see a whole bunch of my students pulling out their own books. Only Majesty and Tubby look lost.

"O...kay then," I proceed. "Whoever has their own books, awesome. Read those. Who didn't bring a book?" I see one or two students raise their hands, but Majesty looks huffy and keeps his arms crossed, knowing that I'm going to take every opportunity to get that little shit back.

"Majesty!" I say loudly, and my head screams at me for talking so loudly. "You got a book?"

Majesty shoots arrows in his glance. "No," he responds shortly.

"Looks like you get to research some sex," I tell him, tossing a book. Tubby shies away too, and I hit him square in the chest with HIS book. His oversized belly kind of swallows it up before it falls down to his extra-cushioned lap.

"Alright kiddies, lets get crackin," I tell them as I trek up to my desk. I hear quiet giggles and little whispers all over the place, but I don't care. This will buy me some time to figure out what the hell we're gonna do when we're done.

My head still pounding, I rifle through my desk shit, finally finding some painkillers lodged between a pair of scissors and a picture of Porschea in just her bra and panties. Heh. I stare at the picture for a moment longer before popping two pills, swallowing them dry. I tap my fingers on my desk, looking around the classroom as I wait for the pills to kick in.

"What are you doing?" I hear a little voice ask curiously. I glance up without moving my head position. In other words, my eyes roll to the top of my skull. Majesty has a book set up on its end and he's hiding behind it, snickering.

I clear my throat and roll my eyes even further upwards. That little shit WILL be intimidated by me because I'm fucking intimidating, dammit!

Instead of shaping up, Majesty snickers even louder, gesturing towards some part of the page. I cough loudly, startling everyone in the class, including Majesty who finally pays me some attention. I give him the same glance. "Problem understanding what a PENIS looks like?" I say monotonously, not breaking my eye contact. Majesty shifts uncomfortably in his seat before losing all traces of his smile and busily gets back to work.

"I thought not," I continue, taking my focus off of the boy. A few minutes later, I hear snickering again. I rifle through my desk, and upon finding a small rubber eraser, chuck it across the room at Majesty. It bounces nicely off of his head.

"OW what the hell'd you do THAT for McCormick?" he cries, rubbing the 'injured' spot on his right side forehead.

"Oh quit your whining, princess, it's a RUBBER ERASER," I combat, deciding it best to make my rounds through the room. I stop a few feet behind Stan and King and smile inwardly.

Those boys have got to be the cutest non-lovers to hit the face of this earth. Stan is whispering something to King, who is trying hard to concentrate on his read. But I know what he's thinking about...

"Psht, Stan stop it," King half giggles, half hisses at his friend.

"Make me," Stan hisses excitedly back, poking him in the side. King jumps a little before snorting and poking him back. I watch amusedly as the poke-fest turns into a little bit of a slap-fest, both boys snickering rather loudly.

"Uhhh, Mr. McCormick?" I hear Tubby call me from the other side of the room. "Uh, the noise levels in here, are having an adverse effect on my learning..." he whines.

"Then wear some ear plugs, I think its fine," I retort nastily. That kid reminds of someone else I've grown to hate.

"McCormick if YOU want to get off to a couple of homos then that's your business, but don't subject us to it," Majesty chimes in, just as my eye contact meets his in an all-out death stare.

Under my breath I mutter something loud and clear. "Try and say another word, Melvin."

"What? Another word?" Melvin replies nastily. "What, like fag? Because I've had just about enough of this faggy class!"

I open my mouth to say something equally nasty back, but am cut off when a quieter voice comes from the back of the class.

"D-don't use that word, Melvin." I turn around and I have to push my jaw back up from the floor when I see Trevor, looking scared but defiant.

"What?" Melvin demands incredulously.

"My d-dad told me that those who are afraid of those are who are different than them are usually not so different after all," the little blonde boy stutters.

Majesty looks around the room and sinks in his desk. "I'm no queer."

"T-then why's it bother you so much?"

Majesty wrinkles his nose. "Because I don't like having to look at gay-moes groping each other in class!"

"I d-don't think Mr. McCormick would let that happen in our class. And m-maybe you shouldn't be looking if you d-don't like it." Trevor looks like he's about to pee himself.

Majesty snorts. "Mr. McCormick not only condones it, he does it himself. Remember with that other lady teacher, huh?" He turns his head to glare at me.

"The one you whose ASS you WERE DROOLING OVER?" I scream, about to lose my cool.

"...uh..." Majesty begins, obviously de-aired.

"UUUUH...try she's my WIFE you little shit." I storm over to his desk and lean over, bracing the desk with my two sturdy arms. "You listen here, you little prick. I'm teaching tolerance in this class and if you've got a problem with it I want you out of here before I take another breath."

Majesty reels back, obviously taken aback by my hostility. Damn straight, he better be scared. He better be about to fucking shit his pants.

"WELL?" I demand. "You got a problem or not?"

Majesty face is bright red, and he chokes on his words a little. "N-n-no, sir," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

"Cause this is your last chance, Melvin. Get out of my sight or shut the hell up," I press on.

Majesty opens his mouth to speak, but his friend Tubby speaks for him. "Man, shut the hell up!" he squeaks at his friend with a nudge. Majesty snaps his mouth shut and stares horrifyingly at my flaring nostrils and foaming mouth that is but two inches away from his tiny face.

I snort in Majesty's face, and he recoils. "Well, at least your friend has some common sense. I'd suggest you take his advice."

Majesty says nothing, but nods vigorously at me, his eyes wide open.

"Melvin. This. Is. Your. Last. Fucking. Chance," I state, breaking up the words for emphasis. "Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me. Again."

Melvin pushes his chair back a little, still nodding vigorously without cease. He looks like a bobble head.

I twitch and blink, waiting for an answer. "Well? What's the matter, teacher got your fucking balls? Try and test me, Melvin. See what happens."

I lean in closer so and whisper into his ear so no one else can hear. "Cause if you mention one more word about those boys I will cut them off and make them into a trophy on my mantle."

I audibly hear Majesty gulp, and it's nearly laughable. Nearly. "Do we have an understanding then?" I ask Majesty more loudly, enough for the class to hear.

"Y-y-yessir," he managed to squeak out. The boy looks like he's about to faint.

"So everyone, you have a few more minutes of reading left, I suggest you ALL use it to your advantage," I tell the class, and they all immediately get back to work

Stan looks a little taken aback by my anger, but I grin as I notice King give Trevor an approving nod.

I make my way over to the brave little boy and put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's have a word outside," I tell him soothingly to let him know he's not in trouble.

"Aw, gee, Mr. McCormick, I'd really like to read this book here," he responds.

I nod my head. "This will only take a minute." I gesture for him to follow me out to the hall.

I exit the room, Trevor following close behind. "I-I'm not in trouble am I?" He asks, voice laced with slight worry.

I shake my head as I bend over to talk to him at his level. "Anything but," I say, smiling slightly at the boy, who immediately lets out a sigh of relief.

"Oh good. B-because if my mom and dad knew I was speaking out of turn in c-class... well y-ya won't tell them, will you?"

"Trevor..." I begin, and suddenly realize that isn't his real name. He's just grown accustomed to me calling him that. I restart.

"Simon, that was pretty cool what you did in there. You've got some great qualities that I'm sure your classmates noticed. I'd be damned if you didn't just make yourself a new friend." I smile warmly.

His eyes light up too. "A f-friend? OH BOY!"

I smile sadly at the boy's eagerness for companionship. "More than one, hopefully," I tell him. "You're a cool kid Simon, you just gotta let others see that. What you did in there, voicing your own opinions against Melvin, that was brave. I'm proud of ya."

Simon grins, staring at the ground. "Uh, well, th-thanks I guess."

"Just keep doing what you're doing. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and it will pay off in the end. Just keep smiling." I smile to myself and decide to go for it. "Simon says keep smiling," I say, feeling myself deteriorate into lameness.

He smiles. "You can call me Trevor, Mr. McCormick. I don't mind." He turns his head toward the classroom again. "Can I go finish my book now?"

"Heh, yeah go read your book," I say, and no sooner are the words out of my mouth then is Simon dashing back into the classroom. I snicker - if it was any other boy I'd think he was looking at a porno. I raise my arms up behind my head, giving them a stretch before reentering the classroom. I'll give Trevor five more minutes with his book before lessons start. Speaking of which, I need a game plan

I open the door and almost immediately flooded with students up and out of their seats to question me.

"Are you going to kick him out?" "Is he going to get kicked out of school?" "Are you really mad?" "What did you just tell Simon?" "Are we in trouble?" "Do we HAVE to read?"

Ugh. I throw my hands up and close my eyes. "Sit. Down," I state calmly at every single bratty kid.

"Mr. M, can we-"

"I SAID SIT DOWN!" I scream. The frightened children scamper away in terror. Haha, still got it.

The throbs in my head beginning to subside, I sit at my desk and rifle through my possessions for anything that may give me a clue as to what to teach with what little I had here. I glance over towards the huge stack of paper towels. There's too little chalk for much writing, it's probably best to leave that for a more important time. I open my desk. Scissors...glue stick... mirror…

I retrieve the mirror, opening it and look at my reflection. Christ, I really do look like hell.

Mirror...glue stick...scissors...we could make some kind of warped craft project. No, that's fucking ridiculous. Come on, Kenny, think!

Too bad my best thinking time is done right after sex. No WONDER I have such brilliant lesson plans. I nod to myself in approval, but quickly snap out of it. That won't help me now. Unless...

Sex. Sex ed. This IS sex ed. Style. Lesson plan...

I scratch my head and feel an idea coming on, but try with all my might for it to come in and not fade away.

Style. Stan, Kyle. Stan, King. I already did pair ups.

I frown tapping a pen against my head in concentration. I chew on my lower lip. If only Stan and Kyle were here... haha, now what a class that would be.

But that won't help me right now. I have three minutes to come up with the most kickass plan ever.

What... what if, there were... drawings? Of... tolerance? Naw, that's gay. There was already a death camp for that.

I've GOT it!

"Class, put down your books, not-so-silent reading time is over." I assume my stance at the front of the classroom. "Majesty actually did me a favor here, leading up to our next lesson. A lesson on tolerance."

I hear groans all around.

"Not just your everyday 'be tolerant' speech, kids." I scan the classroom. "Braids, what's the single most important quality you look for in a friend?"

Braids furrows her brows, trying to come up with the best response. "Uh, being nice, I guess?" Gee, what a completely predictable response.

"Be more specific than that," I tell her.

Braids looks at me in mild confusion. "Uh, I guess being... easy to get along with and stuff?"

"Okay, easy to get along with," I repeat. "Who's got other ideas? What about you, Tubby?" I ask genuinely.

"Gotta be a good cook and service me," he boasts proudly.

I roll my eyes. "Right, and how many friends do you have?" The fatty's shoulders fall.

"Okay, everyone get out a sheet of paper. I want you to put your name at the top and then number 1 to 3 down the side. Think long and hard, kiddies, and write the three most important things you look for in a friend," I instruct them.

The kids dutifully get to work. I notice Stan and King both sticking their tongues out the side of their mouths in concentration. Jesus Christ, they're even both sticking it in the same direction. I withhold a smile at that as the students start coming up to the front of the room and giving me their papers.

As time goes by, I keep close watch on the clock. We only have seven minutes left in class. "Alright time's up. Put your pencils down." Heh heh, I always wanted to say that. This is sex-ed. Do you think I EVER get to have serious tests in here?

"Who wants to go first?" I ask a completely unwilling group of pre-teens who are shrinking into their chairs like I just asked them to recite the star spangled banner while dancing the Macarena.

I notice Majesty above all looks particularly reluctant to speak to the class. "All right Majesty, get your homophobic ass up here and tell your class your three personality traits you wrote down." Majesty looks too damn scared to disobey me again, so he shuffles to the front of the class.

"M-my three..." he starts, glancing nervously at me before looking back down at his paper."I-I wrote, one is sense of humor, two is loyalty, and three is intelligence." His eyes comb the classroom for any remarks or matches.

I watch King as his flirting with Stan subsides and he stares, horrified, at the paper placed in front of him.

"Do we have anybody who has one of these qualities?" I ask, and practically half the class raises their hand.

"What about two of them?" Four people raise their hands, and one of them is the

reluctant King.

I sigh. "Ooookay, who has all three of these qualities listed on their paper?"

The other three hands descend, leaving King's alone in the air. King looks less than happy at this outcome, noticeably pouting, while Stan gives King a look that contains a mixture of amusement and bafflement.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh as Majesty and King share looks of equal horror. "Okay," I continue, "Majesty, you go sit in Stan's spot. Stan, you come to the front of the room and read yours out."

I hear an audible groan from both accused parties as Melvin shuffles his way to the side of the classroom. King sits up straight and scoots over on his chair as far as possible without falling off of it. Majesty takes a loud seat with a huff, and folds his arms.

Stan, of course, jollily SKIPS to the front of the classroom. "I want my best friend to accept me for who I am, love me anyway, and be able to build a fort out of couch cushions." He grins and looks over at King, who I'm pretty damn sure just pissed his pants. Guess little Stan has some intelligence in him after all.

"Heh, so who has one of those?" I notice roughly half the class stick their hands up. "Two?" Ha, and we've got two hands left. "One?" And all the hands go down. Aw, shit.

I notice emo as one of the people who put up their hands for 'two'. "Emo, what do you have?"

Emo responds in her monotonous voice. "I have I want to be accepted for who I am for once in my life, I want to be loved by someone, and I want to be able to write poems about death and hate with them late at night in my closet using only the light of a candle."

"Uh...kay..." I say, not very reassuringly. Stan's bright smile doesn't fade, however, as I usher him to have a seat by emo girl.

This whole experiment goes on until I have pretty much everyone paired up except for a few students. I smile as I look over at Trevor with his partner, who is with some random brunette boy I must admit I had no clue even existed in my classroom. I see the time is drawing to a close, and decide to provide closure to his whole made-up lesson.

"So," I start, "I see that a lot of you seemed surprised at who you got paired up with. Some of you," I say, glancing towards King and Majesty, "probably even dislike each other. Now answer me this - if you have the same wanted traits in a friend, why did you never seek friendship with this person?" King's hand immediately shoots up.

"Just because they want that in a friend doesn't mean they're like that themselves," King states, looking at Melvin with intense dislike.

I bring a thoughtful hand to my chin and strike a thinking pose. "True...but maybe they are just caught up in the clichés of school and too preoccupied with being 'cool' they wouldn't let that part of themselves show, cause it's not considered cool." I am speaking mostly AT Melvin by this time.

"Take a look at your pairs. How many of you thought you'd have so much in common with the person right next to you? Guess Trevor's dad is right. We AREN'T so different after all." I finish my last sentence just in time for the bell to ring. I hold my arm up and signal that it's okay for them to leave.

Stan darts away from Emo, who for some reason looks disappointed, to go meet up with King who practically jumped out of his seat to get away from Majesty.

"That was fun, huh?" Stan nudges King with his shoulder while students shove past them to leave.

"Yeah. Fun," Was King's less than happy response at not being paired up with his super best gay crush friend.

Stan pouted, and I'm not joking, takes King's hand. "Aw, don't worry Lu. We don't gotta get paired up for everything. You're still my bestest friend, no matter what."

My eyes IMMEDIATELY monitor Majesty and his reaction, but surprisingly, he acknowledges their affection, and then he just goes back to this original seat in the classroom and waits silently for the fatass to squeeze out of his. I might've just been impressed if I didn't have to tear that kid a new asshole everyday to keep him quiet in my classroom.

Oh well, all's well that ends well, eh?

I smile to myself as I watch Stan and King exit the room, still holding hands and looking like they're about to start skipping at that. They disappear around the corner of the door, and I think that that's the last I'll see of them for the day. I start gathering my few things together, but stop halfway when I hear a loud voice bellow through the hallway.

"HEY FAGGOTS! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? GAY PRIDE WEEK IS OVER, SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU LITTLE HOMO SHITHEADS!"

I drop every single thing I just organized and make a mad dash out the door, almost throwing students to the side to get to the source of the bashing. I see the perpetrator in front of me--a wiry eighth grader that I had last year, his name is Wally Cox--standing directly in front of my happy little couple.

I trek across the crowded hallway to kick that kid's ass when I stop mid step. As if in slow motion, I see once-innocent little Stan leap across the dead hall space at Wally and smash his fists into his belly, his chest, his neck, and worst of all, his face.

"AAAAAUUUUGH!!" Stan cries out as the taller boy is knocked to the ground. Stan pounces on him, ripping his glasses off of his face for some reason. "AAAH!" he cries out again, and smacks the kid in the face several times, then finally stands up and gives him a swift kick to the crotch.

As I hear students start to chant 'fight! fight!' I dart over to Stan and succeed at pulling him away from Wally, who is moaning on the ground and holding his front.

I push Stan back into King, who is in a state of shock. Stan is breathing fire and his eyes are glaring at the pathetic heap on the floor. He runs back over to Wally, but I swiftly restrain him with my forearm.

"Say it to my face again, FUCKER!" He seethes with anger, and something tells me that little blow up I had in the classroom has influenced his ballsy move. Oops.

Wally looks crippled and unable to get off the ground. I turn to Stan.

"Whoa, boy, calm down there," I tell him with my hand on his tense shoulder.

Stan is breathing quickly, still glaring daggers. "Stan, deep breaths," I inform him, trying to get him to become more passive.

King touches his shoulder, and Stan closes his eyes takes a few deep breaths as I instructed. When he opens them, he looks to King, who still looks completely shocked. He then looks at me, down at Wally, then back up at me. The expression on his face turns from anger to passiveness to horror. His lower lip trembles slightly.

Ah, shit.

The transformation is complete as poor little Stan dissolves into a bought of tears and his body support gives way. He collapses backwards...right into King's open arms.

Lucas looks up at me for guidance, but I really have none. Wally is whimpering on the ground, but I spy him trying to gain enough energy to crawl away. I can't let him get away with this, and I think it'd be best for King to calm his best friend down. I give him a reassuring look and turn to the crowd, telling them all, in more polite words, to fuck off.

Stan turns around in King's arms, clutching the other boy shirt in his fists while sobbing into his neck. King looks like he really has no clue what to do.

"Shhh, it's okay," King tries to whisper to Stan, stroking his hair a little.

"N-n-no it's not, Lu!" Stan sobs into King. King looks to me again, and I gesture towards the empty classroom. King takes the hint and leads Stan into it for some privacy, while I tend to the boy still on the ground.

I lean down and check for a pulse. Why? I don't know, the stupid asshole is clearly moving. He looks at me with confusion and begins to open his mouth, but I've HAD IT with homophobic fuckers for the day and I deliver one final blow to his face as he falls back on the floor. Sure, in any other school, I'd be fired for that for sure, but who are we kidding?

I turn my attention to the two boys sitting very visibly in my classroom. My heart turns to mush as I see King's face only inches away from Stan's as he wipes his friends' tears with his thumbs. Jesus, I've gone soft for those two.

Ah shit, and now Wally's taken the opportunity to start crying too. I roll my eyes upwards and roughly hoist the boy to his feet.

"Come on now, I'll take you to the nurses' office," I tell him, taking his hand and practically dragging him behind me while the boy attempts to walk with his legs bowed together, one hand still on his front. I decide I can trust King and Stan enough to leave them alone in my classroom for a few minutes.

I knock on the door to our hot nurse...of course not as hot as my tasty little wife. God, the boys in this school are lucky sons-of-bitches. I never had a hot teacher. "Miss Chance?" I ask curiously, the intolerant asshole in tow. "You in here?"

She appears around the corner in her cute little nurse's apron/dress thing. Her and Porschea should become better friends so my fantasy can come true.

"Yes?" She asks me, before glancing down at the wincing boy beside me. "Oh my goodness, what happened here?"

"Kid got in a fight," I reply shortly. "Decided to make a few homophobic comments, and someone retaliated."

"Who?" She asked as she gently took Wally's arm, who seems to have forgotten about his pain for a moment to instead stare at the nurses' chest. "Are they all right?"

I dismiss her question with a wave of my hand. "Don't worry; I'm taking care of it."

She smiles warmly at me with a hint of flirt, making me wonder why her and Porschea HAVEN'T become better friends. We could be one happy family.

"Thank you, Mr. McCormick, I'll handle Wally," she tells me, leading me to believe that Mr. Cox is a frequent visitor. "You do what you need to do," she says, flashing her pearly whites at me.

I grin. "Will do. See ya." And like the Flash, I'm out the door in less than a second. Because I roll like that.

In half a minute, I'm back at my classroom. Stan and King are still inside, but Stan is still clutching King's shirt, although his crying has died down to whimpers. King looks a little worried at his friend's behavior.

"Mr. McCormick!" He says almost desperately, his eyes pleading with me for assistance. That's the first time he's ever used my full last name. I look back, equally as desperate to the still in-shock boy.

"Tell Stan it's going to be okay," he coaches me as I sit down unsurely.

"It's...it's going to be okay, Stan," I mimic. Taking a deep breath, I situate myself on the uncomfortable midget chair. "Wally's gonna be okay, you didn't bruise him up that bad."

Stan hides his face in King's shirt.

I force a smile. "Hell of a temper you got there, little boy."

Stan snickers a little into King's shirt, but it fades almost as promptly as it started. "I-I've never b-buh-been in a f-f-ight before," he states, hiccupping. "L-Lu-Lucas is usually th-the one who g-gets in fights with puh-people." He starts snickering a little hysterically into King's shirt again, then hiccups and is back to crying again.

"I don't get in fights THAT often Stan," King says, making a face.

"Yeah you do d-dude. Bu-but don't worry, I do-don't mind." Funny, hysterical Stan is trying to comfort King.

I laugh to myself. "You two are just together for everything, aren't you," I muse out loud.

At this statement, King glares at me. Stan only lifts his head and looks at King. "Well, yeah, we are," he says matter-of-factly. King smiles back at his friend and pushes Stan's face down to his shoulder again so Stan can't see him blush.

"Mr. M, what the hell is that kid's problem?"

"He's got a stick up his ass?" I venture. Nah, he'd like that too much. "Don't pay attention to Wally, boys. He's harmless, even if he DOES talk a lot of shit."

"Well his talk sure does hurt a lot," Stan added, sinking back into King's shoulder groove.

I grin at this. "Well maybe so dude, but I don't think he'll be messing with you anytime soon. Probably go screaming in the opposite direction."

King starts to snicker at this, joined shortly in by Stan. They laugh together, and then King finally succeeds in pulling Stan off of him, wiping his tears off his face once more.

I organize my next thoughts to say, but stop when I see the interaction between my two prize pupils. It's not so much what they're saying, cause they're not saying anything at all. Its how they're looking at each other. The little half smiles, almost goofy, that they're exchanging.

Finally, King draws in a sharp breath. "I didn't know you had it in you, Stan," he says with a smile.

Stan smiles back. "No one's allowed to mess with my Lu," he states, wiggling his eyebrows.

King smirks. "I can take care of myself, ya know."

"I know. But it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to take care of you every once in a while."

Oh God, I think I've died and gone to STyle heaven.

At this, King grins. "I think I can handle that," he says, finally standing up. His eyes never leave Stan's as they walk out of the room. "Thanks again, Mr. M," he calls backwards.

Christ, when are they gonna make out already? I'm getting antsy.

Speaking of making out, it's WAY past time for me to meet Porschea and she is surprisingly nowhere to be found. Perhaps she got tied up?

Heh, I think about my wife being tied up.

I dart over to my wife's classroom, where, to my dismay, I find another student ogling her chest, squeezed between her arms as she talks to him.

"Hey baby!" She greets me as I come in, and I notice the student frown in disappointment. "Mark here was just asking for extra help!"

I blink twice and look down at the blushing student. "And did you find what you were looking for?" I ask impatiently.

He nods. "Y-yes sir." He pulls away reluctantly. Christ, Porschea is naive.

"Well run along then, scamp. The grown ups gotta play." I smacked his back as he exited the room. "AND MAKE SURE YOU CLOSE THE DOOR!" I yell after him.

He closes the door, and I quickly grab my coat, using it to cover the small window in the door. I then lock it effectively. I turn on my heel and give Porschea the most seductive look I can muster. She giggles.

"Hey sexy lady, wanna have some fun?" I purr at her.

Her eyes light up. "SURE! I've got this new game we play at the end of the period that the students think is fun!"

I smack my forehead, which has become a common response to her dumb answers. "Not THAT kind of fun."

She frowns. "Oh."

I waltz over to her, picking up the roll of yarn on the work table along the way. Damned if I know how it's used in the classroom. But I know how I'm gonna use it.

Porschea walks up behind me and reaches around to my front, grabbing my crotch. GodDAMN!

"What're you doing with that yarn Kenny?" She asks, resting her head on my shoulder.

I whirl around, smirking evilly at her. "You've been a bad girl. A very bad girl."

"But I've done everything you asked me to, sir," she replies, assuming my favorite role--the submissive slave that seduces me.

"I'll give you some time to think about what you did," I snap as I pull the yarn out and cut it with my teeth. She lets out a high-pitched giggle as I pretend-rip open her blouse and begin to tie her up.

Yet another point for the Kenmeister.


	5. Meeting the Parents

Chapter 5- Meeting the Parents

A/N: Hey everyone. We know, it's been forever and a day, but we PROMISED we'd update this, and we have. Thank you all for the millions of reviews kicking us in the ass for not updating along the way! Rest assured, this WILL get finished.

Hopefully the absence of writing hasn't lost your interest. How can we make it up to you? Well, here's a start: Our LONGEST chapter yet to date. Enjoy

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Ever since the fight, things have toned down a bit in the classroom. I can't say that I'm too surprised, seeing as Stan is now labeled the undisputed badass of the sixth grade. If I was one of his classmates, I'd want his autograph.

I stare lazily out at the sea of students of my first period class once again. Three weeks in, we always have the parent conference. It's a given. It's required.

It's tonight.

To be honest, I always thought the conferences were a waste of time. If your kid's a fuckup, you should already know that, and if you don't well then you're goddamned stupid. Plus they always took one of my evenings from me, which means no unlimited sex. And a sexually pent up Kenny is an unhappy Kenny. I'm just a bundle of joy, aren't I?

I let out a deep breath and roll my hand further down on my cheek. This room looks like shit, and it's gotta be ready to impress the pants off of any single mother from these kids. I'm gonna have to enlist help.

Every year I always get the happy-go-lucky prep girls asking to help me, only cause they want to show me how much they like me. This year I don't see any of them in the class (thank god)...but I'm kinda hopin' my two faves volunteer.

I glance at the clock. Five minutes till the end of class and no hot minors in skimpy outfits around. Guess I'll have to settle for these guys.

"Okay, listen up everyone," I announce, clapping my hands together to snap everyone out of their reverie. "Who wants to stay after school and cause mayhem?" I try to reel them in.

I watch, pleased, as half of the class starts to raise their hand.

"I believe I am correct in the assumption this 'mayhem', as you put it, consists of us lemmings slaving away in your room to bring it to respectable standards for tonight's showing, yes?" the nerd kid with the thick black glasses asks without me even calling on him. Dammit, the hands immediately fall down.

I sigh. "Okay ENUS," I state, trying to think of the gayest and nerdiest name I can come up with on the spot, "I can tell you sound really into the idea. Thanks for volunteering, it means a lot to me. Be here at four."

"My name is William."

"Okay, and for the rest of you, yes, but if we set up the classroom quickly, THEN we can cause mayhem... in an empty school. Come on, I know you guys want to."

"Mr M?" I hear a familiar voice call. I turn to look at Him--the boy who has turned this class around, the very staple for my reasoning that Style is everywhere.

"You can count on us," King informs me, nodding to his equally important best friend.

"Sweet," I respond, and scan the room for anyone else. I see Simon smile brightly, and I know that he, too, is in on the fun.

Fun. That's what we'll call it.

"Anyone else?" I venture out.

Curls sits up, smiling brightly. "Charlie and I will!" She smiles, tossing a curl over her shoulder as tubby blushes ever so slightly.

"What?" emo exclaims, glaring at her friend almost the exact same moment Tubby declares he wants to help as well.

Majesty elbows his fat friend in the what-should-be-ribs, and glares at him. But he says nothing. I think I instilled the living fear of death into that boy--he hasn't mumbled a single word other than the correct answers in two fucking weeks.

I smile lopsided-ly at the students who've volunteered. Great, I've got an emo, a fatass, and a nerdstrom. Thank God my favorite student will be there.

The bell's about to ring. "Okay, get the hell out of my class," I say, grinning, dismissing them with a wave of my hand. "Those who didn't want to help, have fun tonight before your parents kill you after I tell them how horrible you've been here."

The class doesn't even so much as move from their chairs. I need to work on my joking skills.

"I'm joking," I spell out to them plainly.

I see King look around and chuckle at the lifeless faces of his classmates. He's completely at ease. Seems the only reason he hadn't gotten up was due to Stan holding onto his sleeve. He shrugs the kid off and gathers his books, twisting his fingers in a casual "goodbye" before he exits the classroom.

Perfect. Only 6 more classes of this shit.

The rest of them pass equally uneventfully. Would you believe it? We actually talk about sex in the other ones. Every time the classes snigger, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing with them and glare instead. I mean, come on! I'm in my twenties, and it's still hilarious! What kind of kids take the words PENIS and VAGINA and TESTICLES snicker seriously?

As the last bell rings, I breathe a sigh of relief. Hardly anyone in my other classes so much as lifted a finger to volunteer for decorating my room. Good thing too. You know how you have your favorite child and stuff? No? Well, my parents did...

ANYWAY, I've got my favorite class. Yeah I'll admit it. And they're the ones that'll be in my room in about 15 minutes, so I better find Porschea for a quickie.

Luckily for me, Porschea can smell sex. Or my desire for it. I grin as familiar hands cover my eyes and a seductive 'guess who' is whispered into my ear.

"Am I allowed to feel who instead?" I respond, grabbing her waist from behind me. She giggles.

"I'm gonna lock the door, kay baby?" She says, taking my hands off of her.

After a little this and a little that (mostly THAT--what, you think I, the God of Sex am going to divulge any information on what makes us in a class of our own?), I pull my boxers back up and lean over her, sucking sweetly at her neck.

She giggles excitedly and points down to my still raging boner. It takes more than one time for that thing to go down. Do we have time? Do we?

Sure, we've got time.

"Ready for round two?" I smirk at her overenthusiastic nod. I really AM a sex god.

And she's my goddess.

Just as I start in on her again I hear a knock at the door.

I look at the time. 4:05. Shit.

The knocks increase. The doorknob begins to rattle too.

"Mr. M, we're here!" I hear King call out, and for once, I wish that little bastard wasn't so damn perfect and timely.

"Go away," I mutter, and it comes out more like a moan/grunt than anything. Anyone with a half a brain knows exactly whats going on behind THESE closed doors.

I hear a muffled 'What's going on?' from Stan outside the door.

"I think he's in there with someone," King hisses back.

"Oh. Doing what?" I smirk at Stan's innocence.

"Why are you being so quiet Kennyyyy?" Porschea whines.

I hear King take this in. "Fucking, probably," he decides, forgetting to lower his voice. "Hey Mr. M, we'll be back in a few minutes, kay?" He states, buying me some time.

"Who was that Kenny?" Porschea asks, and I'm unsure of why she wants to make small talk. We've got a destination, and we're going to make it if it's the last...

...thing...I...DOOOOOoooo...

"Fuck," I breathe, wiping my matted hair off my forehead and take in the sights of my absolutely gorgeous wife. She smiles back at me coyly. "You're hot when you're all sweaty," I tell her.

Her expression changes to confusion. "Well, that's WHY I sweat, Kenny."

I smile at my incredibly dimwitted but sexy as hell wife. I slap my forehead, playing along. "Oh, that's RIGHT! Stupid me." Porschea giggles at me and I take the opportunity to leave a series of kisses (some resulting in hickeys, not that that's any of your business) just under the collar of her shirt. We already got a warning about doing this in the schoolrooms from the principal once before, so we play it a little safer now. A little.

I button my fly and tuck in my shirt in the knick of time.

"McCormick! Open up!" I hear someone call, and I can't put a voice with a face. It sounds like authority. Shit! This time we might not be so lucky.

"Coming!" I yell to the door and urge Porschea to dress faster.

"Again? Damn Mr. M!" The authoritative voice has melted away to an innocent yet conniving child's voice, and I feel the relief immediately flood my body. As soon as my very satisfied wife adjusts her blouse, I swing open the door to reveal two snickering boys with wide smiles.

"You think you're so clever," I growl half-seriously. "Get the hell in here, King."

King strides in, looking on top of the world with Stanley grabbing his hand and drag-skipping him right up to the blackboard. Soon to follow are the other volunteers - I guess they had been waiting in the hallway? At any rate they seemed totally clued out on King's little joke - thank God.

"I gotta go baby; I'll see you laterrrr," Porschea drawls, rolling her tongue and slapping my ass while giving me a kiss on the cheek simultaneously before skipping out of the room like a schoolgirl.

I close my eyes for three seconds and take a deep breath, clearing my head (haha) of any thoughts.

Oh, who am I kidding? If I had any thoughts before, they were all shot out of me when I-

"What do you want us to do, Mr. M?"

What? "What? Oh! Uh...we gotta set up for your parents and stuff." I try my best to get back into authoritative mode. I watch King as he grins, nods, and looks around for something to do. That kid knows me. I don't know how, but he does. He knows I don't have any supplies to decorate with.

I look around the room, and decide to dig through my desk, to see if there's anything useful in there, or even something that the previous teacher left. In the meantime, I inform the minions to arrange the desks nicely. Out of my bottom drawer I find a half used glue stick, a package of string, a pair of slightly rusty scissors and some old glitter glue. Half of it looks dried up.

Thinking quickly as usual, I remember the papers that I had the students write at the beginning of the class. Maybe if some of these kids would be willing to show their papers... I doubted King would, of course, despite the fact that it was a completely brilliant paper and outdid everybody's by far.

"Ohhhhkay, who herre would like the parents to see their papers about the person you feel closest to? The first assignment of the year?" I call out, flipping through the pile.

"Oh! Oh me!" Stan practically screams, holding the person's hand down nearest to him to prevent them from raising it, which was coincidentally Charlie and not King for once. Charlie looks disgusted. "You can show everybody mine! I'm real proud of my work!" With that, Stan does a half turn that ends up being more of a spin to face King, and beams at the other boy.

King smiles back and dares to shoot a smile in my direction. It's one of those "You know what that means" smiles. And you know what that means...

I'm just counting down the days, or possibly HOURS, until Stan confesses his miniature love to his gay as a gay cruise best friend.

I adjust myself and look around the room. If I didn't know any better, I'd say these students are taking responsibilities into their own hands! They all seem to be finding things to hang up. I don't give a shit if they tear apart my unorganized shithole of a classroom anyway. Parent night has to be flawless--it's the best way to keep the community in the dark about what goes on here.

I continue to rifle through my desk in the meantime... half a roll of old yellow streamer that smells like someone shit it out... no thanks. Uh... hey we have chalk. We could... write... something... on the board??

I am interrupted from my contemplations with a familiar tug on my sleeve. Looking up from my work I am not surprised to see King looking at me earnestly.

"Hey Mr. M, could I take another look at my paper, real quick?" He asks, face reddening slightly.

I frown, wondering why he wants to see it. He wrote right on the paper that he didn't want anyone else seeing it... nonetheless, I dig King's out from the pile (it's right at the back) and hand it over to him.

His eyes rove it like a scantron, and I try my best to gage his reaction. Maybe he wants me to burn it so there's no trace of it in the classroom at all.

A minute later, he nods once, and hands it back over to me. "Here."

I accept it hesitantly. "...Thanks?" My statement is more of a question.

He smiles warmly once more. Jesus Christ that kid could melt ice cubes on that grin of his. "I want you to show it."

"Show it?"

"...On the display? For tonight? Parent teacher night?"

"...OH! Shit, King, you sure?" I wonder sometimes who's the teacher and who's the student between us.

"Yeah," King states confidently, despite the nervousness I spot in the slight twitching in his hands. "I have... nothing to hide."

"But... what about your note on it? About not showing anyone?"

With that, King takes an old pen on the desk, and scribbles over his words. "There," he says, content with this new change.

"You know if you put it out there, Stan might see it," I say in a low voice, our heads so close our foreheads are practically touching.

"Yeah, I know," he replies calmly. "I... already showed him."

This makes me choke on some non-existent piece of food. "You _what_?"

I watch the kid as he takes a deep breath, glances over in Stan's direction, and acknowledges his friend by doing the fan wave. You know, the kind where you stick your hand up and just move from one side to the other one time, swiftly. It looks like Stan is about to bust from happiness. Did it already happen? AND I MISSED IT?!?!

"I showed it to him after the...fight we had. At home, I let him read some of my rough draft."

"But why?" I ask, honestly curious. Unless...

"He asked me to let him." He sighs. "I can't say no to him."

"And?" I prod further, dying to know.

"And what?" King demanded, seeming almost defensive.

"Does he... did you?" Is all I manage to spit out cohesively.

"I told him nothing, duh," King states with a roll of his eyes. "I can't tell him you know. He doesn't know, and he won't ever."

"B-b-but," I stutter, wanting to tell him so badly about the bathroom incident I had had with Stan that one day, but knowing I should probably just let events unfurl. "What if he...?"

"He doesn't," King states firmly. "It doesn't matter anyways. Let everyone's parents see it. It won't make a difference now."

Is it just me or does King sound defeated? I ponder if he expected something to happen when he showed Stan his work...

"I didn't expect anything to happen, you know," he whispers to me, as if reading my thoughts. Okay, now he's getting a bit creepy. I study his blonde hair and innocent cute boy features. Did I have a kid and no one told me??

"Well, with your permission to show this baby," I say, tapping his paper, "I'm gonna look like one badass teacher." I smile at him, indicating a change in subject so he can get over being uncomfortable. I'm sure everything with him and Stan will work out. I haven't even pulled out the big stops yet and they're already well on their way to becoming boyfriends.

Speaking of big stops, we gotta hurry this shit up, otherwise parents will come in when I'm having an emotional moment with my students. That wouldn't be good now would it?

I look up from my meager findings and focus on the room, which looks like an almost completely brand new place. Work hanging up on the walls, desks tidied, textbooks set up against the wall... wow i didn't even know we HAD half of those textbooks. I whistle in awe, discreetly dumping my finding right back into the desk drawer I found them in.

"Good work guys, you all did a great job," I give them the deserved praise. "Anything else you guys want to do still?"

"Oh, I want to show my paper too!" Curls cried out excitedly, her form almost completely hidden by Tubby, who apparently had been trying to get her attention by pointing out something in one of the textbooks.

"Anyone else?" I ask. "Final chance guys. Heh, what about you, uhhhh," I forget Tubby's name, so instead I just point to him. I wonder if he'd want his mother to see the pie comment he made in his report. Tubby, as expected, shakes his head vigorously.

I see Stan lean over King to whisper something in his ear, but King just shrugs him off, frowning gently at the floor, humor obviously dampened from our conversation.

Stan looks concerned. I see him poke King in the side, and then take his shoulder. "Lu?" He asks, small forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"I'm fine," he responds, obviously not fine.

My heart reaches out to them, but just as I feel the slightest bit of strings being pulled, something much more concrete tugs at my shirt. Again. Jesus, what is it with these little tots? Do they not understand the importance of being masculine and speaking up?

"Mr. McCormick, I need to use the restroom." The quiet voice belongs to the one, the only Trevor. I hadn't even realized he was in the room. That idea saddens me too. That kid just needs some love.

"Go ahead, you don't need to ask me." He does as he's told, and I focus in on the soon-to-be couple.

"We need to get ready for our parents to come, Stan," King informs him. Shit, I missed their conversation.

Irritated that I didn't catch it, I look down at my watch. We've got about 30 min before I told parents to show up, but knowing how incredibly in-tune these parents are to their childrens' lives...we'll start seeing them sooner than that.

AhAHAHAHAHAHA! Had you going there for a second, didn't I? Nah, these parents don't give a rat's ass about their children anymore than their parents did. But they have problems telling time, so I'll see a few of them trickle in starting in about two minutes.

My thoughts are once again interrupted by a series of screams.

"Mayhemmayhemayhem!" The classroom appears to be done, and my earlier promise was obviously not forgotten by little Stan.

The other classmates are quick to chime in. "Mayheeeeeem!" I hear Curls screech shrilly, while Tubby doesn't hesitate to compliment her on her 'lovely voice'. Even Trevor seems a little into it, The only person, in fact, who doesn't, seems to be King, which surprises me. Still blue?

I let out a small laugh.

"Oh, I see. So you guys weren't willing to help out of the goodness of your hearts?" I tease, unable to hide my grin. They're all bouncing up and down like I'm dangling a treat in front of their faces.

"Not a chance, Mr. M," Stan jokes, looking to King for some sort of response. King half-smiles back to him. So Stan nudges him, and I hear him say "cheer up!" I want to run over and give them a big group hug.

...so that's exactly what I do. I skip across my desk and leap to their side, squeezing both boys as tight as humanly possible in between my arms and body.

"WHO'S READY TO WREAK HAVOC?" I invite, looking down at my two favorites, who might be turning a little red from lack of oxygen.

But King is laughing his good-natured natural laugh. I release them and slap them on the back as they all run out of the room.

I trail behind them, trying not to smile. They look like they all just shared a bag of crack together. I remember myself the same age - any chance to bring 'the institution' down, and I was there.

The kids turn around after a moment and look at me with inquiring eyes. "What do we do?" Tubby asks, practically drooling at the prospect of causing trouble. Someone fetch that kid a bathtub.

I stare at him with mock disbelief. "What do you do?" I walk over closer to them, causing them to shrink back. "WHAT DO YOU DO?!?!" I stand up away from them. "Do WHATEVER you want!"

Tubby looks over at Curls and they both shrug. Stan pumps his fist and nods ferociously. "YEAH!" he screams, but they all still stand there, unsure.

"Come on, guys!" Trevor pipes up. "We get to be bad butts! Let's run around the halls and...and open the classroom doors that we won't go into!" This mayhem is almost too much for his little brain.

I bust out laughing. "Yeah, you're a real badass." Hand the kid a jackhammer and a blowtorch, and he'd probably leave them in the corner while he 'terrorizes' the school with his girly scream.

"HEY!" Stan exclaims, shoving King excitedly. "You should do that voice you can do! The one that sounds like the principal!"

King grins finally, taking the cue. "You mean this?" He asks, in a voice frighteningly similar to the one I had heard earlier with Porschea. "We should make a weird announcement," he thinks. "Over the PA. When no one's looking."

Curls giggles, curls swaying, excited at the prospect. "What should it say?" She asks, curiously.

"I know!" Trevor screams, excited, like he's about ready to wet himself. "Lets say Mr. McCormick is the bestest teacher in the whole wife world!"

"They said weird," the four-eyed Enus kid reminds, pushing up his glasses. "Not false."

I sneer at him.

"We could say that our principal is going to marry a pie," Tubby suggests. Is everything about food to him?

"Aliens are invading the Earth and burning everything down, run for your lives?" King considers, rubbing his chin. "Nah, something believable, that's what we need."

"Parent-teachers' night is cancelled?" Stan suggests. "We could make all the teachers go home."

Emo sniggers. "Tell everyone there's a fire and evacuate the building."

"Attention," begins King, in a deep, booming voice. "Attention students. Miss Morrie in the cafeteria has spotted a fire, started by an unknown arsonist..." King ponders this for another few moments, still debating whether he likes the idea or not.

"That could get us in big trouble, guys," Trevor warns.

King laughs. "Yeah, but it'd be cool."

Stan's eyes show worry. "I don't want to get in trouble, Lu!"

King looks into Stan's eyes and smiles. "Okay, lets think of something else then."

They all stand there, faces showing deep thought and concentration. If only they looked half this serious in the classroom.

"Oh! Ohohohohohoh!" Stan finally exclaims, jumping up and down excitedly.

"What? What?" King asks enthusiastically, wanting to know the cause of his best friend's excitement.

"Ah! We should... w-we should..." Stan begins, looking as though he's about to hyperventilate over what is apparently the best idea he's ever had.

I look over at King, who's gazing at Stan with such anticipation. His eyes just show it, his heart just...

Whoa. What am I, a girl?! Shut the fuck up, Kenny!

Tubby snorts. "He's gonna pop a hernia," he tells Curls, who takes a step back as Tubby leans into her.

"YOUSHOULDSAYYOURECANCELLINGSCHOOLTOMORROW!!!" he screams out, grabbing King's hand, continuing to jump up and down.

"Is that it?" King clarifies, his grin wider than his face. He continues to hold Stan's hand.

"YEAH!" Stan cries out, furiously nodding his head. I can't help but snicker - I keep imagining his head falling right off his shoulders and onto the ground, grin and all.

"Okay," King laughs at the excitement of his best friend. "Who wants to use Stan's idea?"

King, apparently the new found leader of the group, counts the hands that raise, which is everyone save Emo, who's still muttering about arson.

"YEAH!" Stan screams again in satisfaction. Seemingly without thinking, he leans over and gives his friend a quick kiss on the cheek, but before anyone, including King, has a chance to react, Stan is halfway down the hallway, screaming at everyone to follow him.

I watch, partially in shock, as all of my half-bad ass students follow their newly appointed leader, while the old leader, and the reason for my shock, stands frozen in one spot. I walk over beside him and kneel down. He looks up at me through big, clear eyes.

"Did he-?"

I nod. "He sure did." Putting my hand on his shoulder, I look down the hallway, to where not even a trace of the last kid could be seen. We are all alone.

"Do you think he-"

"I think he did," I answer, feeling like I know this student enough to finish his thoughts and answer them for him.

King nods numbly, still touching the cheek that Stan had set his little boy lips upon not seconds before. "And did he-"

"I think he does," I respond. "Maybe."

King looks a mixture between euphoric and nauseous. "And-"

"I don't know," I respond.

"Are-"

"Yes?" I venture, determined to be ahead of the curb.

"Are you going to let me speak?" King demands of me, trying to frown and failing completely.

"Heh, sorry," I apologize. "Continue."

"What do you think I should do?"

I smile with him. "Am I allowed to answer this?"

"I asked _you_ the question, didn't I?" I love how his little sarcastic mind works. If I could, I'd adopt this kid. ...If I wanted kids at all. If it wouldn't interfere with my busy life of sex and sleep.

My heart to heart with King is interrupted by a voice behind me.

"Mr. McCormick, I presume?" The voice says haughtily.

Not paying much attention, I turn back to King, "Go ahead, they need your voice don't they?" I whisper to him. King smiles and turns on his heel, walking in the direction of the office, and I stand back up and turn around to meet said parent.

"That'd be me," I say, shaking his hand heartily. I find that I freak out parents the friendlier and more back-hillsy I am. They think some redneck country boy is teaching their children, and I love to see their faces when they think that they are more educated than me. I bet this guy can't even spell b-o-a-t.

"The name's Henry. Henry Sampson. I'm Terry's father?"

Who the fuck is Terry and is that a boy or a girl? God, I've got to learn my students better.

"Oh TERRY'S father!" I over-exclaim. "Yes, yes. Marvelous student, that Terry. Care to come into my office?" I ask, turning Mr. Sampson around and placing my arm around his broad shoulders. We walk into the classroom and have a seat. Not long into talking about Terry (who's ends up being a girl), I hear the intercom switch on. We pause our sentences mid-word to listen to a bunch of garbled noise, then a long string of insults and arguments. Finally, there's a "CRAP" voiced directly into the speaker, and the intercom switches off.

Oh, how bad ass they are.

Mr. Sampson frowns at this. "Kids today," he sighs, clearly looking to me for sympathy, which I have none to offer. He looks about to say something, but is interrupted by a knock on the classroom door.

"Welcome, come on in," I call out, and a loud, boisterous looking woman enters the room. She's on the hefty side, which normally wouldn't bring much attention to her, except for the fact that it looks like she ran here. She wipes her sweaty forehead with a Kleenex, and brushes her thick black hair away from her face. She walks briskly for a woman her size, and I stand up to meet her. Her eyes and hair remind me of... oh no. No no. That can't be right.

"You must be MY little STANNY'S SEX education teacher," she states loudly, emphasizing random words for no apparent reason. I try to stop my eyes from bulging out of my head as my suspicions are confirmed. I extend my hand and cringe as she grabs firm hold. How does someone so cute come from someone so...so...

"HUGE pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCormick!" Her voice radiates through my veins, making me shudder. "My little Stanley tells me so much about how he loves this class." She waddles over to the empty chair beside Mr. Sampson, who looks as disgusted as I did when I saw Kyle's elephant make love to Cartman's pig. He seems extremely uncomfortable, and when Mrs… Mrs. Stan's mom leans over to give him a handshake, he bids farewell to me.

"We'll be in touch, McCormick. I want to see Terry's efforts paying off," he tells me sternly.

"Will do, Henry. Pleasure meeting you." Prick.

"So TELL me," Gargantua starts in on me again. "What unit are you on right now? The human reproductive system? STDs? Protection, like CONDAWMS?" This woman practically jiggles every time she makes any sort of movement. Scrape her into a tray and you could make Jell-O out of her.

"HI MOM!!" Stan and the rest of the classmates appear in the doorway. They all take off again, supposedly to cause more mayhem, while King remains with Stan, who runs towards his mother and jumps into her lap, where he is nearly consumed by her fleshy arms.

"Hello there Stanny," she replies, giving her child an obnoxious kiss on the head. "Oh, and hello to you too, LUCAS," she smiles again, seeing her son's best friend standing nearby.

Hey Mrs. B," he greets back, smiling warmly.

"Are you boys having fun with each other?" she asks, and I about spit out whatever liquid is in my mouth, even though I'm drinking nothing.

"Yeah, we sure are!" Stan squeals excitedly. "Mom, can I sit in on the conference?"

She frowns, and I see several chins form. No WONDER Stan has interest in his best guy buddy. If the only women in my life looked like this, I would too. "Sweetie, I think your teacher and I have to talk about you without you here."

"I thought you told me it's not nice to talk about others when they're not around," he tells her, mildly confused. I smile at his innocence. King smiles too, pulling Stan down from his mom's lap.

"Let's leave, dude. They need some alone time," he says, winking at me. He knew that'd make me throw up a little.

Mrs. Benton smiles fondly after her son. "Stan's always been such a good boy," she observes carelessly. "I trust he hasn't been too much trouble to you?"

"Not at all," I reply truthfully. "He's one of a few that aren't, to be honest."

"Those two," she sighs, shaking her head. "Always keeping each other in check. They're so sweet; good friends like that are hard to find, aren't they?"

Again, I am honestly allowed to respond. "Yeah, they are," I reply, thinking in the back of my mind 'and not just because of the friendship bit.'

"Wouldn't be surprised if those two married each other one day," she chuckled, and upon seeing my jaw drop, changes the subject abruptly. "So what sort of things have you been teaching them so far, Mr. McCormick?"

I blink to erase any ideas coming through my head right now. She didn't really just say that, did she? Just the same, I think I'll tell her what really has been going on in here.

"Well, Mrs. B," I begin.

"Call me Belinda."

"O...okay, Belinda. I firmly believe in teaching an...alternative style of sexual education to my youngsters. After all, these are the impressionable years, and if I can get them to walk into life with an open mind, the possibilities that lie before them are endless." Wow, I don't really know what I just said, but it sounds pretty intelligent. She nods, making me believe that it was coherent as well.

"Oh I concur, Mr. McCormick. I believe that little Stanley is just now starting to understand his own budding feelings, whether they are for me, his dog, or his best friend. Sexual education at this young of an age shouldn't be about the sex, but about the development and understandings of the development." She leans forward and puts a hand on my desk. "I'm just so pleased that Stanley could have someone so open and direct in this fragile time of his life."

I put my hand over my mouth, trying to stop myself from coughing up my liver. Is she referring to me or King? This woman is playing on a whole other field. I can't help but have a bit of respect for her.

"Belinda?" A small voice calls out from the doorway. A woman enters. Or rather, I think it's a woman. The figure is so thin there's not much that can be made out. She looks maybe 30 at best, and has long, wavy blonde hair that ends near one of the nicest pair of tits I've ever seen. Nothing compared to my wife's, but the point remains. She looks up at me through fiercely green eyes, and a hint of recognition flashes across her face. "Hello, Mr. McCormick" she states politely, as Stan's mother rushes up to hug the woman an eighth her size.

"It's so good to see you, Tracey," she states emphatically.

As I walk over in a daze to greet this dazzling creature, hoards of small little boys tumble into my classroom. They, too, are gazing up at the beautiful specimen of a woman, who, I can only assume to be one my students' mother. Lucky son-of-a-bitch.

The closer I get, the more drool I see appear on every single boy standing behind her. Suddenly, my two favorites walk in and around the cluster of boys in heat.

"Hi there, Stan," Tracey calls out after hugging Belinda. I turn my attention to Stan, expecting to see him blushing, drooling, or hyperventilating, just like the rest of these prepubescent boys. But he just smiles, standing next to King.

"Hi!" he exclaims, and then turns to his best friend once more.

King blushes. "Hey mom."

It takes me a moment to comprehend this new discovery. In fact, it takes right up until Tracey bends over to give her son a hug.

"Aw, mooom!" King complains, swatting her away a little bit. Stan looks amused at this, and takes the opportunity to poke his friend in the side. King pokes him back, and a supposed epic poking war starts out again.

Tracey, watching this, laughs and steps over to me, taking my hand firmly. This woman looks so familiar... do I know her?

"Good to meet you," I state obliviously, shaking the slender creature's hand.

She smiles at me, tilting her head to the side slightly. "Ken... don't you remember me?" She asks, her face reminding me of someone who had just recognized an old friend.

"Uh...I...um..." I stutter.

Belinda senses the tension and awkwardness of this whole meeting, and decides to leave, taking the pack of predators with her. "I'll be outside, Mr. McCormick. Come along boys!" she instructs, grabbing several of them by the collar. She scoops up about twelve with a single arm span. I see all of this out of the corner of my eye.

King, too, senses uneasiness. "Yeah, we'll be too," he mumbles, pulling Stan out with their interlocking fingers.

Alright Kenny. Think. Think! "Tracey..."

She laughs. "Figures you wouldn't remember, asshole." But her tone is soft and flirty, so I don't think she's upset with me. My only conclusion is...

OH fuck.

I look at the figure of King, just disappearing out of sight, and then back to Tracey. They definitely have some similar characteristics but... I look at her finger. There's a ring. Please say it's his kid. Please, oh please...

Tracey looks at my face evidently filled with concern, and lets out a lighthearted laugh. "You think you look like him?" She asks, nodding her head towards the door. "You should see his father. They're practically identical." At this I let out a silent breath of air. Safe. Thank God. For a moment I thought this was going to turn into a bad episode of Jerry Springer. 'Surprise! You have a kid!'

"Besides, you really think I'd want you to find out this way? That's so cheesy!" she says, smiling. "Bill will be here any minute, I just wanted to smooth out anything between us...though I see now I had nothing to worry about." She hits me. "How could you NOT REMEMBER ME?"

I move back, cradling my arm. She hits hard for a MILF! "Ouch! I remember you!" I plead, knowing full well that I wouldn't have. How could I not remember a body like that...

"Kenny, you're doing it again." She brings her finger to my chin, and pushes my face back up so I'm staring into her face. "Maybe if I showed you those then you'd remember."

"Can't hurt to try..." I say, and I receive another hit to the arm.

"So how is Lucas doing in your class? When he told me who his Sex Ed teacher was, I knew I'd have to come here and see for myself."

"Lucas... who? Oh, right," I responded cleverly, temporarily forgetting my prize student's name under the glare of his mother's breasts. I debate how much I should tell his mother - after all, wasn't it our secret that he could do much better if he wanted to?

"Lucas..." I start again. "Lucas is definitely one of my top students here; you should be proud of your son. Bit of an attitude, but that more just adds to his personality than anything else..." I trail off, my eyes constantly focusing themselves downwards. Dammit eyes, pay attention! Face! FACCCE!

"Hmph, he gets that attitude from his father," she explains, laughing. "...I'm UP HERE!"

"Tracey, he's got the smarts to make it, I can see this even in the sixth grade."

"What you consider smart and what I consider smart are two very different things, Kenny. Lucas doesn't have a bit of confidence and..." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "...And I know I'm going to regret asking this, but I know you have liquid confidence running in your blood. Can you help him realize himself?"

"Realize himself?" What, like help him realize his sha-wing for his best friend? Does that count as realizing. "Way ahead of you, actually. Picked... up on that myself. Been trying to help him gain some confidence and...that sort of stuff," I finish lamely. "I'll... do everything I can for Ki-Lucas. He's a good kid."

Tracey turns her head again, and purses her lips. Goddamn she's hot. "What were you going to call him?"

"What?" I ask, getting lost in her eyes, YES, her eyes, this time. She blinks and I refocus. "Oh, I've got nicknames for all my students."

"Ha. Kinda like for all your girlfriends?" She leans in close to me.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of all potentially delicious thoughts about to invade. "Tracey, I-I think that...I think Lucas is gonna be just fine." For the first time, I'm sweating that a woman is coming on to me.

Lucas's father takes this moment to walk into the classroom. And goddamn, he DOES look like Lucas - I mean King. It's near creepy, and I shy away from the woman who is his wife. His wife, the milf. Goddamn that guy is lucky. Not as lucky as me with Porschea... but still. Hot damn. She's not a bad second place trophy.

Tracey gets up to greet her husband with a quick kiss to the cheek. She leads him over to me, and we shake hands. What's creepy is that their voices even sound similar.

"Belinda said you were in here, thought I'd barge in," he says, his arm still snaked around his wife's back. Not that I blame him. "You must be Lucas's Sex Ed teacher."

I extend my hand. "Sure am, pleased to meet you, Bill." Score 2 points for my awesome memory! See? I DO listen to beautiful women when they tell me things. The longer I sit with this couple, the more I see that Tracey wasn't hitting on me--she's just as flirty as I remember her. And yes, I remember her now.

We sit and talk in a friendly manner for a good some minutes, before they decide to head back home. Too bad they can't find their kids; Stan and King appear to have vanished off for a moment. I decide to help Belinda, Tracey and Bill out and we all take off in separate directions.

They're not hard to find; I find them sitting together in the middle of an empty hall, playing Red Hands, their laughter echoing down the halls. You know that game? You play rock paper scissors and whoever loses gets smacked on the back of the hands by the winner. I come up to them, and both of their hands look pretty near tomato red. Ouch, boys. They look up at me in unison, and tilt their heads in opposite ways so that they end up bumping them.

"Play time is over, boys," Bill announces coming up from behind me. Just as I was about to make some smartass comment too. I turn around to see him walking hastily up and scooping King off the ground.

"Your mom's looking for you too, Stanley." He faces me with King in his arms. Ah, I remember being that little and having a dad to pick me up. "Thanks for everything you're doing, Mr. McCormick."

I grin. If I didn't have a sneaking suspicion that Bill knew about Tracey and me, I'd ask him out for drinks sometime. He seems like a cool dude. "Happy to do it," I reply, and play-punch King on the shoulder. "See ya tomorrow, kid."

King smiles widely at me, then looks down at Stan, who's still sitting on the floor. "Later, Stan."

Stan smiles up at him, rubbing his minorly injured head. "Bye Lu."

After King and his father disappear out of sight, Stan picks himself up off the ground.

"I gotta find my mom now, bye!" He says to me quickly, and goes running off from where King and his father just left. I just shake my head, wondering how much longer it's going to take before they finally kiss, for real. I hope the plans I already have formulating in my plan for future classes work. And if I'm really lucky, King and Stan may not be the only ones hooking up.

The rest of the interview time passes by uneventfully. About ten other parents decide to put enough effort into their kids to pay their teachers a quick visit. Told you this place was a shit hole.

When the announcement comes on that kicks the parents out and lets the teachers leave, I gather my jacket and other shit and high tail it to Porschea's room where, of course, there are about five single fathers desperately seeking her 'advice'.

I announce my coming with a loud clear of the throat. "Ready, baby?" I walk over to her as she stands up, planting a rather graphic kiss on her lips. When I pull away, I glare at the pathetic losers. "Beat it, its time for us to lock up."

The parents leave dejectedly, and we make quick work of locking the rooms up. Heading outside, I swear, realizing we've forgotten about our end-of-the-day fucking. I glance around - the place is almost entirely deserted, and darkness is setting in. I growl in my wife's ear and lead her, giggling, around to the bleachers.

"I missed you," I state simply before attacking her neck with my lips, tongue and teeth.

"I missed you too," she purrs. "Its not nearly as fun getting hit on by this entire town. I'd rather be with y-OOOOOU!!!!" Her ego-boosting thoughts are halted as I find that sweet spot on her neck and bite down.

I laugh evilly and pull away. "It's dark in here and you're all alone. What ever are you going to do?" I ask her, preparing for another round of role-play.

"I'm not all alone. You're here!" she reasons, her body quaking with desire.

"MMmm, that's right. And I'm about to take advantage of you." I bite down again.

"Oh no!" she giggles. "Now I'm a vampire too. I vant to zuck your blood," she plays, biting her lips and pushing me away.

"You can zuck anyzing you vant, temptress," I reply. As she pounces, the only sounds I hear are our rapid breaths and grunts of ecstasy. Did you honestly think we could _forget_ about our daily tradition? Hey, I may not remember too much, but I will never be _that_ forgetful.


End file.
